


Roots of Promise

by azureheavens



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Dependence vs Independence, Doubt vs Hope, Drama, Family Drama, Future Fic, Gen, Many chapters, Multichapter, No Romance, Original Character-centric, Other, Self vs Other, Sequel, Unofficial Sequel, long fic, other fun themes, the cardinal fanfic sin: making OCs you love more than the originals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-06-19 05:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15503016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureheavens/pseuds/azureheavens
Summary: Fan Sequel to Tales of Graces F, set 20 years after the ending.  Ashton Lhant was born with a weak heart, but in being saved by Lambda, she became his host as he continued to slumber. Now she takes up the fight to protect Ephinea, as old politics and new dangers threaten the precarious peace the three countries once enjoyed. All who sleep will awaken, and those who struggle will bloom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is quite literally nothing else in the world I love more than Tales of Graces.
> 
> For a few years now I've had this story and these characters burning a hole in my brain. Roots of Promise, aka RoP, is a labor of love that I hope others find as much entertainment in it as I have creating it. The characters and themes of the original are stuck in my mind, and this project is meant to both play off of and subvert a few of the tropes it relies on.
> 
> In the end, it is still fiction. If you don't like some of the choices I've made for the story, my apologies. But also it's been TOO LONG since I first began developing RoP, so if it sucks, it's just gonna have to suck lol. 
> 
> You can follow updates, artwork, and dumb, self serving memes at http://rootsof-promise.tumblr.com/. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

Humans were limited creatures.

Single minded, barbaric, thoughtless fools.

Over a millennium, Lambda had relearned these harsh truths again and again. Confusion and loneliness framed his understanding, and torture plagued his memories. Yet he couldn't even say when he was born. One day he was jolted into awareness, tossed haphazardly into a small mechanical body, and from then on given a name. He didn’t know what it meant, or what it was meant for, but there was a plan for him. They tested him first with chipped wooden blocks, then with his ability to manipulate eleth and create life. But when they decided he couldn’t be controlled, they sought to eradicate the “monster” they created.

And after all that, the one light of kindness Lambda had known was snuffed out by his own people.

Humans.

Lambda reveled in the knowledge that at least he was not one of them. His own real identity didn't matter to him in the end. His very existence was all he could cling too, but years of fighting and hiding twisted it into a nightmare. Still, Cornell's last whispers to him pushed him onward.

 _Live on._ But for what?

What was worth living for?

Then his view began to change. He met a young boy with blood at his lips, collapsed in a bone laden alter in darkness. Within him, Lambda slept to regain his lost strength, but the hunt did not end. The child named Richard was victim to every plot and scheme to end his life. Constant isolation, mouthfuls of poison, blades of traitors raking at his heart until enough, enough, _enough._

If all they knew is cruelty, then it is cruelty they deserve.

Hatred fueled their every move. Knowing that life would never simply hand them the peace they deserved, Lambda and Richard forged a path of madness, power, and resentment. Who could understand all the pain that was inflicted upon them? Soon the power to decimate threats became intoxicating. Not even the relentless humanoid Protos Heis could stop them.

But in the end, all it took was one outstretched hand.

"It doesn't matter who reaches out. What matters is the other accepts." That fool Asbel’s relentless kindness led him to take the hand that others would swat away, to take in the monster that plagued his past.

Since that day, the two's promised battle of the mind had faded to gentle understanding. Though he would never say it, Lambda had lost. Instead, he gained more insight into the lives of these humans. They were fond of making promises they had no power to keep, insisting the virtues of friendship and family would carry them through brutal trials. Even Richard, once his friend in misery, stood now with sunlight on his face and a look of true peace. Whatever Lambda once believed about the world’s cruelty faded to extinction.

Now, it was Lambda's turn to teach what he learned to the errant heart of Fodra, a being more ancient and powerful than even he could fathom. To dream and reason with such a stalwart mind would no doubt last longer than his host's life would. But this mission was not about his debt to Asbel anymore. Indeed, Lambda had found a strange peace in not knowing when he would awaken again.

Until Lambda was jolted from his dream by a very real squeeze of his finger.

…What in the world was _that_?

The creature before him had a scrunched up miniscule face and the complexion of raisin. Its stubby hands were balled up at odd angles under its head, with one wrapped tightly around a finger. Asbel's, to be precise, though Lambda had sensed it as if it was his own. The woman, Cheria, held the creature in her arms while laying in bed, having wrapped it in a pale yellow blanket with flowers stitched shoddily on its surface. Protos Heis was nowhere in sight, but it seemed obvious the blanket was of her amateurish design. An unknown man stood before them with a somber expression.

So, Asbel had an infant child now. What more had Lambda missed while he slumbered?

“Is there anything we should be careful about?” Asbel asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Just keep her wrapped up, as you are.” The doctor with very little hair nodded in agreement with himself. “Babies born too soon have trouble keeping their body heat, but wrapping her too tight will do her no favors.”

Without a word, Cheria pulled the baby’s grip off of Asbel and tucked the hand into the blanket. The hand had been curiously cold with an unnatural shade of purple. “What about if… Ashton has trouble breathing again? How soon can we find you?”

“Well, if you perform that healing trick again as you did before, you probably won't even need my help at all.” The man tried to smile, but no doubt he was startled by the woman’s healing powers. “But if necessary, I can stay in Lhant as long as you need. Otherwise, come send for me in Barona.”

Cheria nodded, never once looking up at him.

Asbel stood and bowed, for whatever reason. “Thank you for all your help. And for answering all our questions.”

“Of course, no need to worry over bothering a doctor! Now you three need your rest. You've had a long enough night as it is.” He bowed as well and was led out by the butler.

 

* * *

 

Circumstances without, Lambda thought the birth of a child was supposed to be a happier occasion, yet anxiety plagued the air. As time passed, the miniscule Ashton's color turned pinker, yet a ring of blue colored her face and hands as she cried. And _oh_ , how she cried. It was the kind of sound one would escape from, rather than approach. Protos Heis always hovered over the child when her mother couldn't, her hands awash with healing light. Asbel could only look on, offering calming words and promises that Ashton would get healthier. It seemed the child’s heart struggled, thus throwing the rest of her body into chaos.

The coming months brought a parade of visitors. Bevies of unimportant people brought well wishes instead of congratulations. Soon after, that Amarcian woman and Asbel’s younger brother came together, bringing homemade toys too complex for an infant. (And given the finite nature of all human existence, Lambda doubted their newly formed, haphazard “romance” wouldn’t last much longer.) The one they called Captain offered a stiff drink and what encouragement he could provide, saying that if Ashton had a fighting chance anywhere, it was here. Richard came alone to visit first, and then later brought Asbel’s family to visit him and his family. Yes, family. The duties of king finally required him to find a wife and a little daughter of his own. Perhaps the scars of their time together could heal after all.

Some days it was easy to forget the chord of misery that Ashton’s sick heart brought in their lives. Constant attention by those around her slowly began to regulate her. Her appetite became voracious, which only convinced Asbel he could slip a spoonful or two of curry in his daughter’s mouth. Getting lectured after she spit it up all over him, however, reluctantly changed his mind. She still seemed to stare dumbly when awake, and sleep for long hours into the day.

Until one night she woke up hot with a fever. Too tired to even cry, her breathing was raspy and shallow, and no number of healing hands soothed her symptoms. Days passed, but the fever remained. Every doubt and worry bubbled into the cold realization.

The child was dying.

A flash of sorrow on Cheria's face as Ashton suddenly wailed in her ear. Protos Heis's more than intense focus on healing the girl when she went limp. Asbel interrogating that admittedly useless doctor for some possible solution. Nothing seemed enough.

There was a temptation to turn his attentions back to Fodra, but even she had settled into a slumber. He couldn't afford to distract himself from this mission. Fodra's dreams were fraught with gurgling distrust, not unlike his own from the past. Yet something inside of Lambda kept him in this moment, unable to dream away through the passage of time.

Live on. Live on.

Lambda watched Asbel sit at his desk one night, his hands covering his head, a sign that no amount of willpower alone would save the girl. Yet his heart stirred, and his mind struggled to find a solution. Hollowness burned inside them both.

Then a twitch. Asbel slowly lifted his head. "…Lambda?" He said softly.

So, he finally sensed his activity. "…Your racing thoughts have been keeping me awake, Asbel."

First a wave of surprise, then a forced chuckle. Asbel closed his eyes. "Sorry about that."

The shift to the mind space was instantaneous. That featureless expanse was the only way Lambda could speak face to face with his host, and for the first time, it was not his will that brought them here. Asbel gave him a small smile, the look of one who hadn't seen a cherished friend in so long. "You probably already know what's been happening, huh?"

Lambda said nothing. He wasn't truly prepared for conversation.

"...It’s still weird to think about. I already have two kids, and I still don’t feel like an adult yet. I also haven’t been able to relax since Ashton was born… I can't believe it’s already been eight months. Cheria’s has all these little dresses for her. Every time I look there’s a new one for her, and I still don’t know where exactly they’re coming from. Though, probably my mom is involved somehow..."

Asbel reached up and rubbed the back of his head, showing some embarrassment. “And Sophie’s helping her learn to stand. She’s even trying to teach her how to garden, but all they ever do is make a mess about it. I guess Sophie wanted give her a head start.” Asbel’s ramblings began to slow. He lowered his eyes. “But she’s getting sicker than ever now. She was crawling around for a while, but now all she does is sleep. I don’t want all of that to be for nothing...”

He sighed heavily. “I just don’t know what I can do for her. Cheria and Sophie have been doing everything they can, but… What can I really do?”

Lambda didn’t feel like he should be asked this question, but he couldn’t remain silent forever. “Are you planning on giving up?”

He shook his head. “Of course not! Not after we’ve tried so much.”

“What would you do when the child dies?”

“…I don’t know. I just can’t accept that this "when" is going to happen within, what? A day? A month?” Asbel tightened his fist. “And my family… How can I face any of them knowing I could have protected her? Yet I did nothing…”

Lambda had seen this same desperation in Asbel when deciding how to solve Protos Heis’s loneliness as a humanoid. The solution, however, would not come as easily as signing adoption papers. Still, Lambda was moved with pity for the man.  “The loss of life is… regrettable.” He muttered.

“Yeah. I know it’s not something I can run from forever, but…” The sentence hung in the air, the silence compounded by the stillness surrounding them. Then Asbel slowly lifted his head, wearing an unexpected expression: A smile. “You know, this is new from you. It really wasn't so long ago you talked about how all life was beneath you.”

Lambda prickled. “And you still hold me to that sentiment?”

Asbel shook his head. “You know I don't.”

He would have to find some way to wipe that smile from his face. “I would hate to see you recant your trust in me, Asbel Lhant. I might be left with no choice but to consume your mind as punishment.”

He gave Lambda a chiding look. “You wouldn’t do that,” he said, not convinced in the slightest.

Not that Lambda expected him to believe, but he didn’t need to be reminded of his past mindset. Why even now he joked about consuming his friend’s mind rather than being serious about it. Consoling another was never required of him before. “Tell me, Asbel” Lambda began. “If you could give your own life for the girl, would you?”

“...If I knew that it would save her, I just might. Although, I can think of a couple people who would hate me if I did that.”

An answer he expected. Still, the thought was useless. Giving up one life for another did little to mitigate loss, it simply increased the cost. The child was already weak and prolonging its weak life might just prolong its misery. Yet a soul with no way to protect itself would at least have time to see and learn of the world. Lambda resisted his sympathy. Or at least, he tried to.

The words came slowly, as he knew they would be hard to take back.  “…What if you had more than one life to give?”

Asbel frowned. “...What are you talking about?”

“It is... difficult to address it as such, but either the child lives, or the child dies. You humans tend to care about exactly when that happens, but in life it is the constant truth. However...” He paused, weighing the consequences of his words, “many die before they should. Your daughter, Ashton, does not deserve to be one of them. If you’ve exhausted all other options, there is a chance your daughter can live through… unorthodox means.”

Asbel stared at him dumbly, then his eyes flashed wide. “Wait a minute! Lambda, are you saying-”

“I am saying that, if you will it, perhaps I can save the girl’s life.”

“Lambda…. You want to help Ashton by making her your host?” Silence rung in the air, and Lambda understood Asbel’s silence. Such an attempt is drastic, but it would be for the good of the child. Asbel raised his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“No? Is it that you truly don’t trust me?”

“No, Lambda. I…” Warmth returned to his face, but it was apologetic. “It means a lot, you wanting to help, and I do want your help. But, I can’t ask that much of you.”

“How very unlike you, Asbel,” Lambda said, burying his surprise. “Did you not hatch the plot for me to absorb Fodra’s core, assuming I would follow along without complaint?”

Asbel balked. “That’s-”

“And are you not the same who thrust your hand towards me, damning any fallout from your buffoonery? All to save the life of your enemy? Caution, at this point, would be out of character. Your selfless selfishness will be the end of you.”

Asbel rubbed the back of his head. “That’s… probably not wrong. But I’m trying to not be so reckless if I can help it. Especially when it’s not my life I’m risking.” A knowing smile. So he is becoming more self-aware after all. Then the smile dropped. “What would happen to Ashton if you did this?”

“There are many possibilities… Foremost, I will be able to strengthen her weakened heart. The true problem lies with the consequences that even I can’t control. Such a large amount of eleth entering a vessel as young as her, there’s no telling if she’ll be able to withstand it.”

“What would happen if it goes wrong?!”

“At worst…” The panic in Asbel’s eyes didn’t want him to go into detail, even if it was all conjecture. “It might simply be too much. And even if her body survives, her mind may not. A human so young might not have the sense to endure.”

Asbel started to calm down. “You’re right. It’s not like when I first took you in… I can’t risk something like that.” He brought his hand to his chin. “What if you only used her for a moment? Long enough to help her, but not to hurt her?”

“There may be more to her weakness than you know. It may be something that takes years to truly fix. If one as powerful as Protos Heis be heal it, why would such a simple solution be her only hope?”

Asbel sighed. “I guess so...” Then he brought his head to his head and grimaced. “What am I even saying? She’s just a baby! If only we could wait to see what happens.”

“Time which we cannot afford.”

“Yeah…”

Seconds ticked away as they continued to seek a solution. The numerous outcomes felt more and more dangerous without a way to keep the girl safe from being overwhelmed. If Ashton was too young to defend herself now… “Thus far, we have assumed I am unable to control myself. Do I come across as so reckless?”

Asbel considered it. “No. Well… maybe sometimes.”

Not the candor that Lambda wanted to hear. “...Then it ends today. I make a vow to you, Asbel. We do not know what will become of the girl, with or without my interference. But if you will let me, I promise, with _all_ my power, no harm will come to Ashton Lhant, even if I have to limit myself to protect her. She will live to grow and see the world you love so dearly. Perhaps in helping this one life, others will find their salvation as well.”

Asbel looked surprised from Lambda’s speech, but still nodded with enthusiasm. This might be the first time were he truly shared Asbel’s determination. “I know you can do it, Lambda. With your help, Ashton might have a real chance. Although... I can’t let you do anything until everyone else is okay with it.”

“Ah, of course,” Lambda remarked, not trying to hide his amusement. “Even the Lord of Lhant has people he answers to.”

“You do, too, especially once you join with Ashton. You need to tell us if something is wrong, especially if it’s something that’s risky for you. I don’t want you getting hurt, either.”

“Hmph. I would never be so careless.” How like him to be concerned, though Lambda couldn't deny his gratitude. “Still, I promise it. For you.”

Asbel nodded one last time, a slow, soft smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks, Lambda. For everything.”

Then he was gone. Lambda’s mind didn’t follow him, allowing himself some time to contemplate the weight of his offer. The hollow, echoing landscape that surrounded him helped focus his thoughts.

Lambda pondered the meaning of his own words. His heart was true. Lies were a pitifully human past time, and he would not partake. While he was certain in his desire to help, the reasons why were complicated.

Salvation, he said he desired it. But for who, exactly…

“...Again, you chose to bargain with this human.”

The air surrounding Lambda grew thick with tension. The voice came like a whisper, unexpected and unwelcome.   

“And you’ve even set yourself up to risk your own life... Why? When you have such greater power than this?”

Lambda pushed away all sentiment. Cold reason was the best weapon against this foe. “My capabilities are not your concern, Heart of Fodra.”

Slowly, the beating, bitter heart of Fodra emerged before Lambda. She looked no different than his own swirling appearance, with flecks of green and silver eleth instead of pink and yellow. “It is your power, not the human, which keeps this prison. Your capabilities are all that should be considered.”

The droll, condescending tone Fodra used always grinded on Lambda’s good humor. A thousand sarcastic remarks crossed his mind, but rudeness would do no good. Patience is all he can rely on against such a stubborn heart. “I will keep you with me for as long as you require. You forget your time with me is not to be punishment.”

“Punishment? Because we… Because I tried to restore peace to my home? Yet all humans know is how to defile it. The ages change, but humans have not.”

Lambda wanted to laugh. Such were his thoughts not long ago. “Then perhaps it is time for a new age.”

No reply. Like a child, Fodra pouted.

“We cannot agree once again, I see. Why don’t you rest longer, Fodra? I can entertain your twisted ideals after I sleep again.”

“Ah, yes… The infant human you wish to save…” The aura surrounding Fodra swelled with animosity, her words dangerously soft. “Your desire to help her is puzzling. Humans are so _weak_. They waste away easily, which is why they’re so obstinate in their survival. Yet you believe this one child is worth it? When others are naturally stronger?”

“...You’ve hardened your heart against humans for far too long. Even I see that.”

“You’ve let your heart become too soft,” Fodra hissed. “I know what humans have done to you as well, yet you give them another chance. One day they will forget all you try to do for them. Even that child. As you sleep, she will continue on, feasting off the life you’ve opened to her. Or… she will rely on you too much, never realizing how much you have let go to aid her. Humans always do.”

Irritation pulsed around Lambda, his patience running thin. “You’ve spent too much time struggling against me. You refuse to see what the humans have become, or perhaps, how they have always been. Your heart clouds itself against the very life you created, and I will _not_ waste time speaking when you are unwilling to listen.”

For a moment, almost imperceptibly, Fodra’s aura flickered. “Such strong emotion, while you work off the debt no one asked you to repay… You already... waste your time…”

Without another word, Fodra faded away, returning to her hiding place.

Lambda was alone again. The silent, once calming landscape now seemed to scrape at his mind. Perhaps what Fodra said was true in the end. The debt he felt compelled to repay… There truly wasn’t anything he gained from helping the infant. Thought he doubted he would be forgotten, he never asked himself the same question he posed to Asbel.

If you could give your own life, would you?

Lambda had existed for so long, but even he shouldn’t be exempt from death. He simply became very good at avoiding it against all odds.

Perhaps that is what inspired him. Humans were weak and frail, and to say he had grown fond of them would be incorrect. But the few he had met, out of all those who scorned and hunted him, won out in the end. In the end, they desired life as much as he. A young boy dying in a catacomb, a fool throwing himself in harm’s way to protect those he loved. Even Cornell... the first human who gave his life to save what was once a specimen in a test tube, offering guidance even in his last breath.

There was more to see in the world, Lambda knew it. Perhaps one as bitter and scarred as he could be the lens through which to view this new world. For Ashton’s sake. For his sake. To be able to truly live.

To live on.


	2. Chapter 2

_ I want you to know… that humans have potential… _

These words echo from far away. Words that she's heard countless times and yet never at all.

They are not her words, and she is not their audience.

_ A body may influence a soul, just as a soul can shape a body… _

A different time, a different voice. Fragments of another life swim in her head when she sleeps, but she doesn't mind. They don’t belong to her, but the thoughts themselves are comfortable, much like the scenes that often play out.

Wooden toy blocks, stacked on top of each other on the floor of a clear, white room. Sometimes in her dreams she’s a kid again, sitting alone, but not quite. He, the owner of the blocks, is always near. She always searched for him only to wind up at the start.

She never worried however. Although she never met him, her father promised that he wasn’t dangerous. Dad always kept his promises.

So she didn't mind the empty room, the years of silence. She wished she could meet with him, at least once. To thank him, to talk to him, it didn't matter. The dreams were ever only for the night, after all.

But in the morning, she was herself, and right now, seventeen year old Ashton Lhant was humming.

She was alone in the bottom floor bedroom she shared with her sister, Sophie, fitting the few changes of clothes she’d need for a short trip. Sleepwear, a change of clothes, a small stack of sheet music to study in her spare time. The whole bag was no bigger than what could fit on her back. Ashton clipped her sword to the buckle by her left hip. Satisfied, she left her room, so focused on working on the melody stuck in her head (she would have to jot it down when she had the time) that she nearly walked into a small floating head of curly maroon hair.

"One hundred forty-two!" The head proclaimed, and then flew back toward the ceiling.

"W-what?" Ashton stopped and rounded the edge. She met the face of her younger brother, Ian, with her own look of shock. He was tied with rope around the waist to the banister, with his twin Joshua holding his shins so they would stay curled around the edge. "Where did you get rope!?"

Ian dropped from his curl-up to look Ashton in the eyes, his face pink from being upside down. "Oh, hey Ashton! Don't mind us, we've got this covered."

_ …How am I supposed to ignore this? _ Ashton gaped at the set up. 

Joshua and Ian were both six years younger than Ashton, identical twins in almost everything except wardrobe and personality. Ian was talented in coming up with new "what ifs," and Joshua would figure out the best way to do it. They were always rambunctious, but lately grew more reckless in their plans. Even the boys didn't know what they were going to do until they did it, so it was hard to predict what would be next. But this incident looked a lot like something else that happened just recently.

Branches snapping, apples falling like rain, Ashton diving to catch Ian so he wouldn’t crack his skull open. "Weren't you two already in trouble from last week?" Ashton frowned.

"Yeah," said Joshua, all too casual. "Me distracting the guard while seeing how fast Ian could climb up the apple tree. But, since Mom said we're not allowed to set on foot outside the manor…"

"She didn't say what we had to do while we were stuck inside!" Ian’s grin accented the small mole under his left eye. "I mean, Dad was about our age when he joined the knight academy, right? We could probably do the same if we started getting stronger. Now, what was my count again? Uhh…" He squared his little shoulders and pulled his head to his knees. "Two hundred twenty-three!"

Joshua gave him a look. “You've only done seven,"

"Ugh, since when were you keeping count!"

"Since you  _ can't _ , apparently."

"Okay just, stop. Stop right here." Ashton grabbed Ian's shoulders so he couldn't squirm any more. "I guess I can't stop you before doing things like this, but at least  _ think _ first if it's really a good idea or not." Ian interrupted with a whining pout. "You're already in trouble, so you should get yourself down before-"

"…Un-believable!"

That. Ashton peeked over her shoulder while Ian let out a small yelp. Their mother, towering at five foot three inches, glowered at them from the doorway of the study. Lady Cheria was as pretty as always, with the top of her dark pink hair clasped back with a gold butterfly hair clip, and a mature touch of makeup to darken her lips. But her stern brown eyes would strike fear into the heart of any child. Ashton immediately jumped away. Her mother didn't even glance her way as she strode up toward the dangling Ian.

"Uhhh, hey, Mom-" Ian said.

"Care to explain to me why one of my sons is dangling from the second floor?" Cheria's tone told them that she wanted no explanation. "How long have you been up there?! All the blood rushing to your head will make you black out, or worse!"

"I haven't been here that long! Only for a few minutes since Josh tied me he- Huh?!" Ian's already pink face turned even redder. Joshua had disappeared. "What?! He left me hanging!"

Their mother sighed. "Of course. It's never just you after all."  She looked toward the boys' bedroom. "Joshua, come back out right now!"

A few seconds passed. Joshua poked his head out the doorway. "What’s wrong, Mom? I was busy studying."

"Oh, I'm sure you were. Now come out and untie your brother from the banister this instant!"

Ashton swallowed a sigh as Joshua dragged his feet back to his brother to pull him up. Unfortunately, life was never boring with those two around. How many times had they avoided getting hurt because Ashton found them first? At least this time they used some sort of safety measure, instead of just dangling each other off the banister…

Cheria shook her head. "I wish I could say I didn't know where you get it from… When your father and Ashton come back from Barona, we're going to sit down and get to the bottom of all this madness." Once Ian was back on his feet, she turned to Ashton, her demeanor less stressed. "Speaking of, are you about ready to go? Your father has one more meeting, then he was going to come and find you."

Ashton nodded. "Yes, Mom, all packed. Should I take my stuff out to the Turtlez now, or…?"

"Don’t worry. I'll ask one of the servants to bring it for you. But in the meantime…" Cheria paused and brought her finger to her chin. "Ian, you haven't been to see Sophie yet, have you? She said she's been reminding you to come to the garden for days, but you've never come."

Ian froze, his leg stuck in the rope. "Uhhh-"

"Sophie works hard to prepare the seeds for your flower every year, and every year you put it off!  Does that show your sister any appreciation for what she does? You shouldn't keep her waiting. You and Joshua are still not allowed to leave the house, so take Ashton with you, and then maybe you two will stay out of trouble." The twins both grunted in protest. "Ashton, would you please?"

Ashton nodded. "Sure. But let's go quickly before I have to leave. Okay?"

"Fine," Ian grumbled.

"Not fine," Joshua echoed. "I don't even have to plant until after summer."

"And I've already planted," said Ashton, "but I'm still going. Now let's go. Please?"

Ashton hoped asking sweetly would help motivate them faster. It didn't. It took a promise from their mother that they would be tied to their beds for the rest of the week for them to start walking. The three children made their way out the front door, their mother shaking her head with a frown.

The outside greeted them with a clear blue sky and sunshine. The garden was a small circular courtyard just in front of the manor with two white stone fountains adorning the sides. Numerous flowers, mainly sopherias, filled the area with a sweet perfume. Kneeling to the side near a patch of empty dirt was their older sister, Sophie. She looked up as they arrived, a surprised smile on her face. “You’re finally came, Ian.”

Ian waved away the embarrassed look on his face. “Sorry, big sis, but I was grounded, so I couldn’t come.”

“But I’ve been waiting since before you were grounded,” she said with a pout, her voice as sly as it was sweet.

“Yeah, remember?” Joshua said, hiding a grin, “You even avoided using the front door, like climbing out the windo-”

Ian clapped his hand over his brother’s mouth, shushing him loudly, which made Ashton clap her hand to her forehead. “Sophie, do you want me to bring them back later instead?”

Sophie stood up, her long purple hair brushing against the grass, matching the hem of her spotless white dress. "It's alright, Ashton. At least he’s here, and gladiolus are still in season." She gestured to where she once sat. It looked more like a small potato, but the flower bulb was sitting on the ground next to a spade, a foot long wooden stick, and an old book with a lime green bookmark sitting in the open crease. "Ian, why don’t we start?"

They all had spent lots of time in the garden with Sophie over the years. Most of it was spent covered in dirt, especially for the twins, but Ashton always admired how careful and gentle Sophie was with the flowers. She showed an obvious bias towards sopherias, but each flower blossomed under her care, and she was just as gentle with her siblings as she guided them through planting each year. Ian was the only one left to garden, but soon both boys sat huddled over the book on flowers. Ashton could only laugh to herself while Sophie watched with her. The book first belonged to their grandfather, Aston, who started filling its pages long before their own father was born. It was filled with notes and directions on how to grow many different kinds, and now it seemed to never leave Sophie's side.

"Now, Ian," Sophie said as the boys started digging up the dirt. "Your flower name is Gladiolus. Do you remember what meaning the gladiolus flower has?"

Ian didn't even have to think. "Sword!" He cried out with a finger in the air. "'Cause it looks like a blade, but covered in flowers. Probably useless in a fight."

Sophie nodded sagely, as if it was a legitimate concern. "I agree. Do you remember the symbolism?"

Joshua rattled off the answer without bothering to look up. "It does mean strength, probably ‘cause they  _ do  _ look like swords, but they also mean honor and integrity." Ian nodded while continuing his work. "My flower name is Iris, which symbolizes wisdom, friendship, and valor, junk like that."

Ashton rolled her eyes, settling her gaze on the flower she had planted just three weeks ago. Amaryllis, meaning determination and beauty. It already stood tall and its stock straight, a firm green bud perched on top. Sophie picked this flower for her simply because it was a pretty name, but she was happy to be affiliated with it regardless. Sophie even pushed to have her named Amaryllis instead, which is where the tradition of flower names began.

"I'm glad you both know the meaning behind your flowers names." Sophie continued softly. "And I'm glad you're working hard to plant them. I gave you these names because, like the names that our parents gave us, they symbolize the wishes I have for your lives.” She brought her hands to her chest, closing her eyes. “Knowing the meaning will protect you, as long as you never forget what it means and where it comes from."

_ …Oh boy, here we go _ . Ashton tried and failed to subtly wipe her eye with the knuckle of her thumb. She seemed to always cry when Sophie talked about the flower names, not just theirs, but the ones Sophie picked for her cousin and her friends. Granted, Ashton would start to cry for anything. Watching children play, frustrated with playing the wrong notes on the piano, baby peepits (they're just so small and yellow). Sophie smiled after seeing Ashton out of the corner of her eye. Crying easily was embarrassing, but her family never treated it like a big deal. It was just who Ashton was.

But the boys went on gardening without even seeming to listen to Sophie. Typical.

"Are you ready to go to Barona?" Sophie asked Ashton, trying to help center her again.

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I am. Sorry you have to do my part of the gardening while I'm gone."

"Don't worry about it! I'll make sure your amaryllis is well cared for."

Ian piped up. "Right, and if mom ever lets us leave the house again, we can help too!"

Joshua threw his hands up dramatically. "At least we don't need to hear the speech every time we come out here. Besides, how can we forget if you keep telling us  _ every _ year?"

The front door to the manor clacked shut. "If that's the case, then it looks like Sophie's doing her job well."

Scruffy hair styled and clean shaven, Lord Asbel entered the garden wearing an amused look and a signature white coat. Ashton faced him with excitement. They worked together to help run Lhant, even letting Ashton make some of the decisions for new housing. Lhant’s population more than tripled with trade between the three countries bringing people as well as goods. This meant all hands on deck at all hours of the day, but having a small part in so many lives made Ashton proud. Behind the scenes work was always more her style, anyway.

"Hi, Dad." The boys waved over their shoulders, not even looking up.

"Looks like you've finally been caught. I expected to see you in the garden earlier, Ian."

Ian scratched the back of his head. "Uuuh, well, you know…"

"He was tied up with something earlier, so he couldn't get down," said Joshua.

Asbel nodded. "Tied up with what?"

"A rope!" Ian chirped.

"... _ Rope _ ?"

Ashton blinked. "Mom didn't tell you what happened?"

"Well, I knew something  _ did _ happen, but she just said, 'I don't want to talk about it,' and pointed me out the door."

The twins shared a grin. Sophie loomed over them with a chiding look.

From the town square, a man from the Lhant militia ran up to the manor, stopping and panting just short of the garden entrance. “Lord Asbel! Good, I didn’t miss you.”

Asbel took a moment of surprise. “Wait, you’ve returned already?” He said before approaching the man.

Ashton frowned, not sure if she should follow to hear what happened. The frazzled man wildly shook his head as he spoke too quietly for her to hear. He handed her father some papers, who stood puzzling over them. She didn’t remember seeing Dad sending that man off anywhere. Where had he gone?

The manor doors clicked shut again. Now Cheria entered the garden with an attendant carrying both Ashton’s and her father’s bags out to the Turtlez. Ashton thanked him as he walked past, still eyeing her father. 

“Good work, Ian!” Their mother said with an all too encouraging smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ian bounced to his feet with a salute, making a line of dirt on his forehead. “And since we’ve both learned our lessons, I can stay out longer with Josh?”

Joshua batted his eyes. “Pleeeease?”

“...Nice try, but no.” The boys hung their head in defeat. “Neither of you have even seen your tutors today, so you need to get ready.”

Asbel made his way back, the man already gone. “Is everything okay?” Ashton asked, trying to gauge his reaction.

He nodded, his face slightly more serious than usual. “It should be okay, but it can wait for now.”

Cheria tilted her head, unaware of what happened. "Are you sure? You both will be gone for three days, and I don't want either of you to leave anything undone. Being late throws off the whole schedule."

"Then we won't be late. Don't worry," Asbel said, smiling to reassure her. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

Joshua groaned. "Okay, we get it, you're married, yeesh."

"Joshua, shush!” Cheria frowned. “Besides, someday you'll be older and you won't mind this sort of thing."

"Eugh, okay, but I don't want Dad to kiss me.”

Ian shook his head in shame. “You know that’s not what Mom meant. You’re way too immature.”

Joshua shot him a look. “Maybe, but I’m  _ still _ older than you.”

With a gasp, Ian thumped him on the arm with his fist. “By only seven minutes!”

"Boys, stop!" Cheria grabbed Ian by his arm and pulled him to her side. Sophie took the still grinning Joshua by the shoulder and held him beside her.

Ashton frowned, planting her hands on her hips. She didn't want to leave her mother and sister alone in the chaos. "Ian, Joshua, you have to stop bickering. If you don't, then when Uncle Hubert comes to visit, you'll probably never get the chance to see Blaise.” Both sets of brown eyes went wide. “Stuck in your room, all alone, grounded…"

That did it. They loved Blaise. "Truce!" they cried before popping out of their holds and bolting back to the manor. "Bye, Dad! Bye, Ashton!"

"...Well, that worked.” Asbel rubbed the back of his head.  “Good thinking.”

Ashton just shook her head. "They really need to calm down…"

"Let me worry about them. It's about time you both left." Cheria, still exasperated, at least managed a smile. "We'll survive while you're gone, we promise."

"Say hi to everyone for me." Sophie said, beaming.

\-----

The ride across Lake Greyle to Barona wouldn't take long at all. Waiting to see Barona's silhouette was exciting no matter how many times she travelled there, especially since it meant seeing Laurent and Sylvia again. While Lhant become more active over the years, it was still nothing next to energy of the kingdom's capital. She leaned against the front railing of the ship's bow and stared past the waters.

“So, Ashton, what  _ exactly _ were the boys caught doing?

Ashton's mind jumped out of her reverie. Her father had seemed to sneak up on her, but he really had been standing at her side for a while. His smile turned apologetic seeing he had startled her.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything really big, but… Joshua apparently tied Ian upside down to the banister.”

“...Were they arguing?”

“No, but Ian wanted to do curl ups? I don’t really get it, but Ian said he was training for the knight academy.”

“Wait, so they tied themselves to the railing?” Asbel's eyes first went wide, then settled into half lidded resignation. “Wow… Wish I could say I didn’t know where they got it from.”

Ashton hid a giggle. “Mom said the same thing.”

"Yeah, she would know." He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “But still, the knight academy? I don’t remember either of them telling me about that.”

“Sorry, Dad, that’s all I know. Maybe it’s something they just decided on?”

“Maybe…” Asbel voice trailed off as he put his hand to his chin.

His silence went on longer than she expected. Ashton started to worry. “I-it’s probably nothing in the end! They’re both… crazy, but I don’t think either of them would run off to do it. You’re not worried about that, right?”

“...What? Oh, sorry, I actually wasn’t thinking about that at all,” he said, but he still looked concerned. “I doubt they would either.”

“Then what were you thinking about?”

“That messenger from earlier… I sent him off to Velanik to finalize our new trade agreement, but he was stopped before he could even get to the border.”

Ashton gasped. “Really? Why?”

“No idea. We had all the proper paperwork for him, but they turned him away.” Asbel started to shake his head. “I hope this doesn’t mean anything bad.”

“...Then is it really okay if we leave? I could go back to make sure nothing comes up.”

“No, you need to be here. All the land owners and Lords are meeting with Richard, and eventually you’re going to make this trip without needing me at all.” His voice dropped. Asbel took a moment to look up at the empty sky. “I still remember the day I left home for the first time, sailing alone with little else but my father's old sword. I had always talked about joining the knights, but at that point I felt I had no other choice. I wanted to become stronger, and that wasn't something I could learn by staying in Lhant." He stopped to laugh. "Well, I've learned a lot of different things since then, and not all of it was from training at the academy. I don't regret it now, but if I did stay in Lhant, maybe I would have made this same trip to Barona with my dad when I was your age."

Ashton could only nod, her emotions catching her voice in her throat.

"What about you? Anything you regret?"

"…What do you mean?"

Asbel smiled softly. "No second guesses about taking over Lhant after me?"

First her jaw dropped, then she pouted. "Dad, don't ask me that  _ every _ time I go somewhere with you."

"I know, but even if you changed your mind tomorrow, I don't want you making this choice just because of me."

Ashton rolled her eyes, which made him laugh. "I accepted your inheritance a looong time ago. I've wanted this since, well, forever. And just because you keep asking doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind. I love Lhant, and the work is worth it, isn’t it?"

Asbel smiled. "That definitely makes you different than me. I wanted nothing to do with the lordship for the longest time. Hopefully after all this time, I managed to get most of it right."

"I'm sure Grandpa is happy to see all the good you've done for Lhant."

Her father gave a quiet nod. "I hope he is," he muttered, staring out to the lake.

Her father and grandfather were never close, but she heard him only say good things about him. Aston Lhant was a serious man who worked tirelessly for the people of Lhant, even at great personal cost. She was named after him, with a letter added to avoid confusion, and because her mother worried it wasn't feminine enough. Still, she was happy for it. There was a lot to live up to, but she was proud to do it.

That wasn't the only thing Ashton inherited. She placed her fingers on her left cheek, just under her one violet colored eye.

Ashton was the current host for Lambda, a being not from her world with no real form of his own. He slept inside her mind like her father before her, and King Richard before him. She knew the history, she felt the carvings on the tree with her fingers. Yet she had never heard Lambda's voice. The stories she was told were from when Lambda was awake. He hadn't been active in seventeen years, not since he saved her life.

She owed so much to him, to be able to stand by her father, train with him, learn piano with her mother, play with her siblings. All the things she wouldn't have had the chance to experience if Lambda hadn’t taken a chance on a young baby with a broken heart. Ashton wanted her life to be the proof of all the hard work and faith her family placed in her.

It was these kinds of things she thought about, as the silhouette of Barona grew on the water-crested horizon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two years ago, I sat down to start writing Roots of Promise, before slowing down and becoming so frustrated with myself that I didn't write anything AT ALL. EVER. So you can guess that finally finishing Ch 2 (yes this is chapter 2, ao3's numbering system has thrown me off) is a major deal for me. It introduces about 5 new characters! We're about to uncover some drama! King Richard is here!
> 
> Many thanks for reading RoP :) And a million thanks to my great friend Arty, who puts up with my whining like a champ.

The energy of the capital

exhilarated him.

Through a thousand eyes, a thousand lives. Happiness is what he searched for, sharing their joys and triumphs. Eavesdropping, learning, sometimes even feeling. Each person wove a unique tale.

He wanted to know them all.

But the quiet moments they spent alone... worried him. Perturbed him. Smiles faded, wounds deepened in loneliness. They were unwilling to turn to each other, instead turning away or against. That was the nature he could never understand. Yet as much as he reached, as he called out-

His arms could not hold them, his words could not reach them.

He could gather their pain within him, but to erase their sorrows completely was impossible. However, he could not give up. To give in was not human, yes? Not truly human. They never knew him, but he needed to see them, to know them.

Especially that girl. She interested him the most, a soul braided with other souls. How nostalgic. How strong her example. Even when wounded, she turned to help others. He was even lucky enough to speak to her on occasion, and she was so kind. She showed him the great depth of  humanity.

What he knew all along.

It had been some time since they last spoke… He missed her, in a way, but she didn’t need him. Not now. Maybe soon.

But it would seem… Others needed him more…

There was… unrest. Needs and desires unmet, festering into resentment. But why? The anger and sorrow… he could never understand. The differences driving humans apart were too great.

How unfair, those differences… Could humanity reach its true potential when they allow petty rifts tear into chasms? As he was, he never could understand. He would have to keep watching.  Learning.

And perhaps _she_ could show him...

* * *

 

Their ship closed into port quickly, and Ashton and her father joined the small trickle of people filling up the stairs from the ship. Travellers and fishermen crowded the busy port, and the wind blew the smell of fish and water into the city. The top of the stairs opened up to a beautiful view of the lake, watched over by the valkines Gloandi. The buildings in Barona stood tall and proud and nestled close together. People littered the streets, but one person in particular caught Ashton’s attention.

Speaking with a knight stationed by the stairs was a blonde young man with a high thin ponytail. Ashton cupped her hand to her mouth, smiling. "Laurent! Hello!"

Laurent took a second to turn his head. His expression was stern at first, but it quickly warmed with familiarity. He wore a red tunic with gold trim, a black long sleeved undershirt, creased white pants, and thigh high boots with brown leather detailing. A long green sash tied at his stomach caught the wind churned in from the port. Laurent exchanged a last few words with the guard, who gave a quick bow and walked back into town. _Of course he’s already here_ , she thought, waving him over with a smile. He always waited by the dock when she was about to pay a visit.

"Ashton, welcome back." Laurent's voice was a low tenor now, but she could remember when it used to crack. Then he bowed. "And it’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Asbel."

"...Good to see you too, Laurent, but I thought we already talked about using my title like that. I've known you since before you were born!"

Laurent shrugged off the complaint. "The castle has seen far more nobles as of late. I'd hate to fall out of practice."

Asbel held his hands in the air in defeat. "If you say so."

"Dad,” said Ashton, “is it alright if we walk around Barona for a bit first? It's been too long since I've been here."

"We're due to meet with Richard soon, but I don't see a problem with it," Asbel said with a nod. "I have to go to the castle first. Will you two be fine on your own?"

"Even if we weren't alone, you wouldn't need to worry," said Laurent, turning back to the city. "The royal family is always  kept on a close leash." Sure enough, normal city guards as well as members of the Royal Knights were stationed throughout. Ashton wasn't sure how many were there just because Laurent was, or if they were there already.

"I suppose that is true, but make sure you stay in the city, alright?"

"We will," Ashton said in sing song. She was used to her father's warnings, and she never intended to break them. With that, Asbel left them to make his own way towards the castle.

Laurent quietly sighed, as if such formality burdened him.

"You really don't have to keep calling him _Lord_ Asbel, you know. You like it as much as he does."

"…As long as he sees me as a child, then I will treat him as an adult." Laurent spared her a glance. "Unreasonable?"

"Well, maybe not for _you_... My dad doesn't treat you like that, anyway."

Laurent simply smiled in response. "Was there somewhere you wanted to go? Barona hasn’t changed since your last visit."

Ashton tapped her finger to her cheek. "To be honest, not really. Just wanted to walk around a bit."

"Then let's go to the shops. You could find something to bring home to your brothers."

"Uh, about that…” Ashton started walking, with Laurent at her side. “I don’t think I should get them anything. Things were crazy when I left."

Laurent raised his brows, but didn't question further. "A souvenir for yourself, then."

She frowned. "Why would I need something like that?"

"...I doubt most people _need_ souvenirs, Ashton." He shook his head, brushing his curled bangs with his fingers. "In fact, I remember seeing a quite large peepit plush on my way from the castle. I'll have to find it again and buy it for you."

Ashton stopped in her tracks. "N-no way!” _Don’t think about how cute it would look, don’t think about how soft it would be..._ “Besides, I have no room for something like that in my bag."

"No?” Laurent paused thoughtfully. “Then a new bag for you, as well."

Ashton all but dragged Laurent away from any store he got close too, making the shopping trip pointless. She was too embarrassed to let him buy her anything today. Or any day, considering how many times he offered.

Although, for the youngest of the royal family to be openly wandering the main streets, there wasn't much fuss made about it. Years of controversy kept the royal family from the public eye, but as peace agreements took root between Windor, Strahta, and Fendel, things changed quickly. People from every continent travelled for business and pleasure, and even a monarch could travel publicly.

The guards kept a eye on Laurent, while townsfolk greeted him as he passed. Even at sixteen, anyone with eyes knew he was handsome. Sleek jawline with sharp green eyes, the family resemblance was strong to King Richard, although the green eyes could be credited to Queen Vivien. The whole family had this peachy aura Ashton couldn't explain, including his sister Sylvia.

By the base of the stairs to the castle was an ice pop shop that's been around for years. The shopkeeper was a cheery woman, and Ashton's family always got two for the price of one. The Lhant Discount: they were always buying for a friend. The owners insisted every time someone denied it. Either way, Ashton fished out enough gald to pay, but the shopkeeper already had two ready for them.

Laurent lagged behind a step. "Sorry, but I mustn't."

Ashton turned, ice pop already in her mouth. "Why not?"

Laurent raised a brow. _You deny my offer, I'll deny yours,_ he seemed to say.

The shopkeeper flashed a smile."Oh, pretty please, your highness? Even with this young lady, I would never charge the prince for one of my delicious ice pops!"

Laurent returned a diplomatic smile of his own. "I shouldn’t misuse my status for any reason, while I do appreciate the gesture."

The shopkeeper wilted a little, returning the ice pop to its place.

The two stepped away from ice pop stand. Ashton frowned at the bright blue ice pop with guilt. "...Now, I feel selfish being the only one eating something."

"Don't hold back for my sake," he said with a shake of his head.

A mature voice spoke behind Ashton. "A tactful answer, Prince Laurent, but not completely necessary."

Ashton turned. She didn’t recognize the important looking woman behind her, but Laurent seemed to. His eyes glanced over Ashton's shoulder, and then lightened with surprise.

The woman tilted her head with a collected smile. She wore thick makeup to compliment her round, blue eyes. Her shimmering black hair was pulled back in two low buns at the base of her neck, with two thin strands from her sideburns hanging as low as her chin. Something seemed familiar about her… "You would not be thought less of if you enjoyed a simple dessert now and then,” she said.“Why, you're only skin and bones."

Laurent hesitated a moment, but stood taller to address her. "Please, don't trouble yourself over me, Ms. Bellamy.” He gave a small bow. “Allow let me introduce a good friend of mine. This is Ashton Lhant. She's visiting in Barona for the next few days. Ashton, Evette Bellamy. She is a diplomat who has helped us negotiate with Fendel."

Ashton bowed her head in greeting. "Good to meet you, Ms. Bellamy." When she lifted her head, Bellamy was looking at her with amusement.

"I'm sorry, but, Lhant, you say?"

"Oh, yes, my dad is Lord Asbel."

"I see. I’ve met with your father then, on occasion. It's interesting to see what resemblance there is. Although, pardon me, but your left eye…"

It took Ashton a second to react. "Oh, this! Um! It's just an, eye condition. I've had it since I was a baby, but it doesn't do any harm." Ashton was never good at that lie. It wasn't that Lambda's existence was supposed to be hidden, but it felt like a matter of privacy. He was never awake to say otherwise.

"Ms. Bellamy, were you on your way to the castle?" asked Laurent.

"I am on my way back, as it happens. I'm afraid I cannot attending the meeting. Other matters need my attention."

Laurent nodded, but he frowned at her answer.

"That's a shame," said Ashton. The ice pop started to melt on her fingers, but she ignored it. She wasn’t about to start licking her hands in front of someone she just met.

"Not completely. There's more worth in business than pleasure." Bellamy then chuckled. "Though I'm sure you, young lady, enjoy dressing up for such occasions."

Ashton blinked. "I-I do, at times. But these meetings aren’t for fun. I'm my father's heir. If I want to be a good leader, I can't forget what's important."

"Your father has already decided?” Now Bellamy blinked. “I heard he had other children, two sons."

"Of course he has! I mean, of course he's decided…"

"And she _is_ the eldest," said Laurent. "Just as my sister will be queen someday."

"I'm aware," Bellamy remarked, her eyes not leaving Ashton. "I didn't realize your father was so progressive minded. Perhaps I don't give Lord Asbel enough credit. It wasn't so easy when I was younger. How old are you, dear?"

"…Seventeen."

"Ah, younger than I was, at that…” Bellamy tapped her chin, then let go of a heavy breath. “Then you should be grateful you're granted this edge. Although, others have managed higher achievements without being as spoiled as you."

Ashton's jaw dropped. "...Spoiled!?"

Then _splat_. Her ice pop landed the ground, leaving nothing behind but the stick.

After silence, Bellamy spoke first. "…I'm afraid I might have misspoke. I didn’t mean spoiled, but lucky.”  

Ashton eyes couldn't leave the melting ice pop on the ground. "Don’t worry about it…"

Bellamy’s apology continued, but Ashton couldn’t listen. Fighting that cursed reflex of hers to cry took up her concentration, but her embarrassment made it worse. She winced when a tear dropped to the ground, right next to the ice pop. _What a stupid thing to cry over..._

Laurent subtly patted himself to find something to dry Ashton’s eyes, but soon gave up. He cleared his throat lightly. "I'm afraid we shouldn't waste more time. Your business is done at the castle, yes?"

“It is, and I actually have to head to Gralesyde for a family matter. Please do take care, Prince Laurent.” Then she paused. Ashton lifted her eyes to see Bellamy’s pitying smile. “It was wonderful to meet you, Miss Ashton.”

Ashton packed up her silly emotional baggage to smile in return. “Travel safe...”

Bellamy bowed to each of them, and then walked past them several paces before stopping.  “If I may give some advice…” Bellamy looked over her shoulder, her right hand curled behind her back. “the hearsay and gossip of meetings is one way to learn of the world. It never compares to seeing it with your own eyes.” Sparing a last apologetic smile, Bellamy walked away towards the commercial district.

Silence stuck in the air, like the melted ice pop stuck Ashton's fingers together. She quietly licked the syrup off her fingers. The stick in her hands had _WIN_ written in faded ink. She sighed. "...Spoiled, huh?"

"...She must have spoken without thinking," Laurent replied gingerly.

"Maybe, but I guess it’s true, in a way." Family. Station. Her own life. She had more than most people could ever dream to have, including a second chance. She let out a breath, raising her head. “But it all makes me want to give back even more. A good leader is someone who puts others before themselves, right? At least, that’s what I think."

Laurent looked thoughtfully at the ground. "That makes sense, but a leader should at least have some sense of self..."

Ashton looked at him strangely, wiping her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"...Don’t mind me, " Laurent said, shaking his head. "Just a thought. Let's get going."

They rounded to the stairs that led to the castle gates, but the easy banter that had filled their afternoon had fallen into a heavy silence. Even after deciding she shouldn’t be bothered by Bellamy’s careless words, they rolled around her head like waves in a storm. Ashton looked intently at the castle’s high spires and lush trees to distract her mind, but it still stung. Past the guards, under the towering foliage, into the foyer-

Then Ashton’s boot came down on something small and hard. She gasped and jumped to the side as several wooden chess pieces clattered onto the tile floor. The board sat in front of the empty doorway, the black half of the board in disarray with the white mostly intact. She looked up at Laurent, keeping the surprise from her voice. “...I think this means it’s your turn."

Laurent stared at the board, and then sighed in irritation. "She could have picked a better spot."

"Don’t tell me it’s the same game you were playing the last time I was here…" A few months ago, Sylvia and Laurent played rounds of chess by sending a servant back and forth between them during dinner. The king himself put a stop to it, though they took to hiding the set around the castle ever since.

"No, thankfully. Our last game ended in a stalemate, though this game has gone on longer. I am relieved to find it in an more obvious spot." Laurent winced, then continued. "Last week, I was preparing to take a bath when I left for a moment. _Just_ a moment. When I returned, the set was balancing on a pink butterfly inner tube in the water. I’m still too worried to ask how she managed it." When Ashton’s jaw dropped, he handwaved the shock off her face. "I'll follow you in a moment. I’ll need to take care of _this_ first..."

Ashton kept her thoughts to herself. An endless chess game was one of their tamer competitions. Academics, music, games, sword play, archery; there was always something the two were vying over. It was never mean spirited from what she could tell, and both sides seemed to enjoy it. Still, Ashton found herself nursing the ego of whoever lost. Most cases, it was Laurent.

Ashton wished him luck and started for the stairs. Stepping on that chess set helped her mind segue from what happened earlier, though she felt bad for whoever’s side she destroyed. Laurent didn’t seem too bothered, so she had to wonder...

Servants bowed to her as she approached, the vast doors to the throne room already open. Nobles and other officials gathered by the empty throne. She surreptitiously made her way to her father's side' to her father’s side, who she found chatting with Lord Miles. He was animated and friendly, chosen to lead the city of Gralesyde after Duke Dalen’s retirement. If he was aware he ran the largest city in Windor, he didn’t show it. He seemed to enjoy gatherings like this more than any other setting she had met him in.

Then she met a knight captain, research leads from Amarcia, the head knight instructor, the countess and viscount in charge of trade and agriculture, and countless other officials that it made her head spin. They only nodded to her, but already she found it hard to put faces to names. Servants weaved in and out to deliver drinks and finger food, making it seem more like a party than a council. Ashton was glad she wasn’t late, but the late hour and aimless milling of the guests signaled something wrong. She looked around, finally realizing what piece was missing from this picture.

Where was King Richard?

But she had no time to wonder. Instead a keen, mellow voice sounded behind her. “You’ve done it. You managed to escape Laurent at last!”

Ashton fought a smile, then turned to look over her shoulder. “Hey, Sylvia.”

Princess Sylvia was all poise behind her, a subtle smile barely creasing her relaxed green eyes. She wore a mauve dress with mid-length sleeves, slight ruffled detailing, and a hemline that ended just under her knees. Blonde bangs covered the left half of her face, curling away just enough to not hide her features. An emerald hair clip kept the right side of her hair out of the way. She took Ashton’s hand in her own in greeting, before tearing it away. “ _Why_ are your hands so sticky?”

Ashton winced. “Uh, yeah,” she said, scratching her cheek. “I was eating an ice pop earlier, and it kinda melted on me.”

“So you’ve just been walking around like this? That won’t do.” She brought her over to a servant standing to the side, asking him for a napkin and some water. He returned much quicker than Ashton expected. Sylvia thanked him before turning back to her friend. “Where is Laurent, anyway?”

Ashton rubbed the damp napkin between her fingers. “The foyer, when I left him. He had that chess set with him.”

“Good!” Sylvia smiled, a look far too pleasant for her deviousness. “He found it.”

_More like_ I _found it,_ Ashton thought.

“Then I don’t expect him to be back for a while yet. Probably for the best...”

Ashton tilted her head. “How?”

Sylvia’s eyes flicked to the side. “No reason. I left him in a tight spot in our game. If he gets out of check easily, I’d be impressed.”

Sometimes it was hard to understand what Sylvia was thinking from her expression. Her face was soft like her mother’s, and she often looked sad when she was really just in thought. Ashton quickly learned to take her at her word. Sylvia collected friends with ease, and possibly knew a little too much about everyone else’s business.

Ashton returned the napkin to the servant. “By the way, where are your parents?”

“Father will be here soon enough, but my mother is off in Strahta.” Sylvia sighed. “A diplomatic visit. It was supposed to be all of us but then something urgent came up on their end, so it’s just her now. She won’t be back for a few weeks.”

Ashton sympathized. Sometimes her own mom would be gone for days if someone asked for her healing powers. Sometimes she brought Sophie with her too, leaving Ashton and her dad to corral the twins. “Too bad the trip was cancelled,” she said.

“Indeed. It would have been nice to have a vacation to wash down all these dusty meetings.”

Their chatter continued, with Sylvia trying to steer the conversation back to Ashton when Laurent returned. Ashton smiled at him. “Welcome back!”

Laurent smiled too, before turning cooly to his sister. “Checkmate.”

Sylvia brought a hand to her chest. “How? I had _you_ at check.”

“Did you? I didn’t see it.” He brought a hand to his chin, obviously relishing this moment. “I suppose Ashton’s heel did help to change the board in my favor when she knocked down your pieces.”

Sylvia gasped deeply, turning to Ashton with a look of utmost betrayal.

Ashton held up her hands in protest. “It was in the middle of the floor! I barely reacted in time as it was.”

“You know that’s not the safest place, Sylvia,” Laurent chided.

Sylvia’s gaze began to smoulder. “Where else would I put it to make sure you actually find it? ...Then there is no other choice. Ashton, please,” she turned to her friend, “go find where Laurent has hidden the board and step on it again.”

Ashton stared. _Is she serious...?_

“Don’t indulge her,” Laurent muttered.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“But it’s _only_ fair.”

Laurent rolled his eyes to the ceiling, letting them land toward the entrance of the room. After a moment, he turned to them, gesturing with his chin. “Seems we’re finally beginning,” he said softly.

Footsteps soon grew louder than the surrounding conversation. The room quieted, everyone turning and clearing the path. King Richard was already half down the carpeted walkway before trying to bring attention to himself. “Excuse me, everyone,” he said, as if no one actually noticed him. “Thank you all for coming, and I appreciate your patience. I hope you all haven’t been too bored in my absence.”

Laughter bubbled from the group as he strode up towards the throne, stopping just before its steps. Golden blond hair fell to his shoulders, which were draped in a dark emerald cape. A jeweled clasp fastened it together on his left, showing the hilt of his rapier at his hip. His clothes were richly detailed with splashes of gold, but the material itself was simple cream colored cotton.

Richard surveyed the group with an even smile. When he met eyes with Ashton, his smile curled wider.

As a child, Ashton would ride on the king’s shoulders while Sylvia and Laurent clung to his legs as he walked and spoke with his retainers. She spent many days and nights playing in the castle with Sylvia and Laurent, making an audience with royalty an all too common event. Often he was busy, mired in the details and troubles of the kingdom. Though whenever she had a question, especially one about Lambda, King Richard was always there with a kind word and answer.

His Majesty continued. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you all. Every day I see you all work tirelessly in your duties. Without your efforts, Windor would not have the level of prosperity it has now, the highest that I have witnessed in my lifetime. After our meal, we shall begin our council. Once again, I thank you for presence and all the service you provide for our kingdom.” He unsheathed the ceremonial rapier he kept at his waist and raised it high. “May the wind guide our blades.”

“May the wind guide our blades!” They echoed.

“May the wind guide us, indeed!” Miles stepped forward with a bow, the glass in his hand characteristically empty. “Though a breeze would be nothing in comparison to your leadership, your Majesty. We in Gralesyde are particularly grateful for the crown’s assistance with helping to locate some of our missing citizens.”

Ashton was startled, and so were a few others in the room. “Hold on, missing?” She muttered. “What happened in Gralesyde?”

“I heard about this,” Sylvia whispered. “A number of regular citizens all but disappeared. They ended up finding a few lost in the woods to the south. Even some bandits were there, but they were victims too.”

“...Of what?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t heard that yet,” Sylvia fiddled her hair clip. “It was once a matter of secrecy, though Lord Miles seems to think otherwise...”

Laurent shook his head. “It might even be a monster… Those they found were drained and dizzy, and others are still missing. I’m surprised no word has gotten to you, yet.”

Ashton frowned, tightening her grip on her fingers.“I’m surprised, too.” Was Lord Miles just staying tight lipped? But why blurt it out now? And if whatever monster was roaming Gralesyde undetected, wouldn’t Lhant be affected as well? Why was it not?

The rest of the throne room buzzed with speculation. “Sire,” The trade master, a woman with loose white hair, added. “Those disappearances in Gralesyde, would they have something to do with Fendel?”

Ashton snapped back from her thoughts. _Fendel?_

Miles looked at the trade master strangely. “Why would it have to do with Fendel? Gralesyde is possibly the farthest away from them. Unless, there have been disappearances in Lhant as well…?”

Asbel shook his head. “No way. I’ve received no such reports. But Fendel is acting strange.” He brought his hand to his chin. “Just this morning they’ve started to turn away our traders. Without a word, they’ve closed their side of the border.”

Mutterings in the group grew louder. A researcher blurted from the other side of the room. “So we’ve been waiting on our fire cryas order for nothing? But we placed it weeks ago!”

“Even the Turtlez haven’t been allowed passage, from my reports,” muttered the trade master.

Concern squeezed at Ashton’s chest like a vice. “But, why close the border at all? It just doesn’t make sense.” She stepped forward. “We’ve been peaceful with them for years now, I thought. What changed, King Richard?”

Miles sighed. “Is it possible to circle back to what Fendel’s new hermit status has to do with _my people_ disappearing?”

Richard raised a gloved hand, his eyes closed. The group quieted, still bursting with more questions. Yet both Sylvia and Laurent were silent behind Ashton. She almost forgot they were there.

The king looked out to his peers. He spoke slowly, carefully. “Your worries are not unfounded. We will discuss many of these matters in our council, as well. For now, I can say that our troubles in Gralesyde have no connection to Fendel. Our trade with them will be limited in our future; however I assure you Windor is under no threat.”

Murmuring started up again. Ashton’s chest still felt heavy. Calm as the king was, something bigger was brewing. She stared at the ground, her lips moving to say-

“Then, Fendel must be in trouble.”

It wasn’t her voice. She looked up. Her father broke off from the crowd, now standing closer to the king than anyone else. “If they’re going through with something so drastic, then something internal is wrong. They can’t get any food or resources from us, either. So why choose that?”

Richard nodded to Asbel, his expression grateful in a way. “Speculation is an inefficient tool, so I would not want to spread any false information. Unfortunately, we must discuss the matter bluntly...”

Ashton held her breath. To her left, Laurent gripped his fists. To her right, Sylvia's expression darkened. This wasn't news to them.

“...Fendel finds itself on the verge of civil war."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS IM BACK! My 2019 New Years Resolution is to write roughly one chapter a month (through 200 daily written words), and considering I have an update finally, it seems to be a good one. I'm looking for ways to slim down my scenes in the future, cause with as much as I have planned there's no way I'll finish in a years time...... Did U Kno: RoP has 4 parts?? 
> 
> Shout out to FrozenLeaf for being a much better writer than I am. And another to everyone who read through my stuff to boost my confidence. Enjoy a little royal angst!

**PART ONE: Unrest in Fendel**  
   
 

  
Fendel was always caught in a power struggle: This much, Ashton knew. Cutthroat politics and dwindling resources drove them to bleed their own people dry. War was the language Fendel spoke, Lhant its common target.  
   
But things did not stay that way. Military might masked Fendel’s weakening resources, and it took an eleth crisis with nowhere else to take from that turned Fendel around. The late Chancellor Eigen managed to do it, penitence for plunging his country into disarray, working with the rebels instead of against them.  
   
Ashton had studied the history, but she learned the most from sitting on Captain Malik Caesar’s knee. He was tall, and always smelled nice. The twins loved to hang off his arms and reenact stories they heard from his boyhood. When he wasn’t around, Sophie could recount most of his stories from memory, and Mom would quickly swoop in to save them from any misinformation. Dad learned everything from him, and he passed it onto her (Though the captain sometimes corrected his teachings.)  
   
Any struggles Fendel had, Captain Malik never spoke of them. He was honest and serious, but spoke highly of the work he and the new Chancellor Moroz were doing for Fendel. Though his visits were few, they were always memorable.  
   
Yet, it had to be true. The news of civil war struggled to settle in Ashton’s stomach. The dreaded words, passing from the king’s lips, caused murmurs to ripple through the group again.  
   
Her father stiffened. "But that's impossible. I haven't heard any news of that from my people by the border."  
   
Lord Miles sighed heavily and beckoned a servant to bring another glass. "Exactly how long is some time, your Majesty?"  
   
Richard shook his head. “In the five years since Eigen’s passing, Chancellor Moroz has done well in keeping up with the programs he set in motion. But as of late, the demand for food has overtaken what the government can supply, and it seems that the pipelines have fallen to disrepair as well. The people have voiced their discontent, and others have started falling back to insurgent activity.  
   
“Despite Fendel’s efforts to keep the peace, members of the government from Eigen’s time have been dealing with the new rebels on their own. Our intel says fighting has broken out in Northern Fendel.”  
   
The throne room hummed with the news, but Lord Miles’ voice stood out amongst them all. "It seems less on the verge of civil war, and more like the actual thing." He remarked, his hand hovering by his chin. "Then again, skirmishes against the government in Fendel aren't exactly... unusual."  
   
Sylvia bristled but said nothing. Ashton frowned for both of them. Laurent seemed to scoff.  
   
Richard waved for order. “Fendel’s troubles are not new, but one of our chief envoys for Fendel tell of worse news. The people and officials have deemed Chancellor Moroz as too weak to lead and stripped him of his title. Those who stand with him have been chased from the capital.”  
   
The Amarcian from Orlen spoke up. “Fendel is acting erratically again… Why close the border if all the fighting is in the north?”  
   
“By our intel, the rebel forces have sent us requests for supplies and aid. Those messages were intercepted, and the new government made their decision. I believe they hope to alleviate this business on their own.”  
   
A moment’s pause, before a scoff echoed from the group. “Just as well. It’s better we don’t get involved with Fendel’s business. They’ve been a sinking ship from the start.”  
   
“But…” The financial head advisor spoke next, “their economy has been booming! Not intervening at their crisis could mean danger for everyone.”  
   
“Yes, for they would come to invade us like they always done.”  
   
Asbel raised his voice. “I know people are scared, but we can’t let the past dictate what we decide now. Fendel has come a long way in twenty years.”  
   
“…The people starting another rebellion is a funny way to react to years of prosperity.” Miles muttered before draining his glass.  
   
Ashton bit her lip. The adults around went back and forth, the distrust in Fendel more prevalent than faith. Sylvia heaved a quiet sigh, her eyes never raising from the ground.  
   
Laurent was quiet, his eyes closed, chin high. His hands trembled as he listened, until with a final twist of his head, he marched to the head of the crowd. “Do you hold this council just to bicker? Or will we actually attempt to reach a solution?”  
   
Ashton’s jaw dropped. Laurent usually never raised his voice, even in more casual circumstances. Now, he looked different. His eyes and tone were hard, his form silhouetted by light filtering through the stained glass.  
   
Laurent turned around and bowed to his father. “May I speak a few words?”  
   
Richard’s expression was stoic, eyes flicking between his son and the crowd. He nodded slowly. “Please, share with us how you feel.”  
   
Laurent grimaced. “You already know how I feel.” Then he faced the others in the room, his face stern. “Please forgive my outburst, but these events demand your concern.”  
   
Perhaps taken aback by his sudden declaration, the crowd petered into muted mumbles, and eventually silence. Everyone’s eyes were on him.  
  
“You may think me too young to speak, but we no longer live in an era where the problems of one country cannot affect our own. In fact, I’d say it was never that way. Fendel is obviously in the wrong to starve its people, but allowing it to continue is just as careless. “  
   
The king spoke quietly. “Interference with Fendel, at this point, can only lead to more problems. You and I have discussed this.”  
   
Laurent turned to his father, hands outstretched. “If we can show Fendel they risk bleeding themselves dry, then our aid could change its fate. How can we claim there is peace when atrocities are committed under our nose?”  
   
The room hummed again with worry. Ashton’s father stood apart, his hand covering his chin in thought.  
   
Ashton had only one question on her mind. “Um, King Richard,” she said, hurriedly stepping forward and bowing. “Would doing nothing actually help? We don’t have to help one side over the other. If nothing changes, Fendel will just ruin itself. And then Windor…”  
   
Laurent held out his hand towards Ashton. “Then Windor too will be without resources. Leaving a place like Lhant vulnerable to attack. We would not even need to side with the rebellion, we just need to show our good intentions.”  
   
“While they’re at war?” Lord Asbel finally raised his head. “If Fendel has already reached this point, they’re backed into a corner.” He looked to the prince, his eyes sympathetic. “Laurent, I also want to help Fendel. But in this case, staying out of it might actually save more lives.”  
   
King Richard nodded in agreement. “All we have to decide is our past history, and we do not know what other actions the new government will take.”  
   
Lord Miles shrugged. “Then we stay cautious. We can send some of Gralesyde’s militia to Lhant if need be. It’s not as if we’re in any danger yet.”  
   
Laurent shook his head. He addressed his father directly, green eyes glinting in the light. “And what of those who suffer needlessly? If fighting has already begun in the north, what stops it from spreading to the south? Our old peace agreements were meant for wars between the countries, but they can't protect the people from their own. Chancellor Moroz doesn’t want that for his country, much like you wouldn’t for ours."  
   
Richard straightened. In a low, steady voice, he returned, “Don’t mistake my caution for inaction. A country that values peace realizes when action is necessary.”  
   
Laurent was unfazed. From the distance, Ashton could see his fists clenching at his side. “Father… After what Windor has done in the past, I understand. However, are you sure you’re preserving the ‘peace’? Or are you so afraid after what you've done that you can't see that you're making the situation worse?”  
   
A murmur ran through the crowd. The king sat still, but Ashton glimpsed a flash of grief on his face. He said nothing, his eyes dangerously cold.  Laurent’s gaze faltered for just a moment.  
  
The room was quiet. Father stared at son and son stared at father. Even Lord Miles said nothing.  
   
Then slowly, Richard drew back. His voice was calm; composed. “I believe… That we need to put our trust in Fendel. They are a proud nation, and any acceptance of our help will not come easy. Bloodshed is abhorrent, but we must not bring it about ourselves. When the conflict has settled, and when they reopen their borders, we can open discussions.”  
   
"And when talking isn't enough?" Laurent stared straight-faced at his father.  
   
King Richard’s gaze flashed at his son.  
   
Laurent lowered his head, his mouth a thin line.  
   
Those were the last words Laurent spoke before the meeting was adjourned.  
 

* * *

  
   
Ashton didn’t see Laurent at all during dinner. King Richard asked him to stay behind, while the rest were guided out of the throne room. Sylvia tried to lag behind as well, but soon followed Ashton and her father towards the proper dining hall. The mood shift was instant, thanks to Lord Miles loudly claiming he never drank when being offered a new glass. War was a distant thought when surrounded by such regality.  
   
 _“How can we claim there is peace when atrocities are committed under our nose?”_  
   
Ashton grimaced. She tightened her grip on her fingers to steer her mind away from the worst. It wasn’t about denying it was true, but hating that it was. Fendel was hurting, yet it was turning against itself. It made no sense. Not to Ashton, anyway.  
   
And Laurent… She had never seen him so bothered about anything. There were times when he was moody and had something big stuck on his mind, but he usually kept it to himself, or at least confided in Ashton eventually. He had never spoken out against his father like that, ever.  
   
When King Richard returned, Laurent didn’t. Though the king was able to redirect the mood of the event, he was obviously more than concerned under the layers of poise.  
   
Sylvia was quiet, another warning sign to Ashton. After politely diverting questions, she had left all the small talk to her. Ashton tried nodding along to some noble recounting the accolades of his knight captain son (who Ashton knew nothing about), when she realized Sylvia had left her seat. She last spotted her by the King’s ear, her hand grazing his shoulder to signify her escape. Then, she was gone.  
   
Ashton stayed in her chair, her eyes at the door and her fork empty over her full plate. She wanted to be excited here, but without having all the names to the faces, she felt more like an oddity, a stranger. Even those seated around her had given up on speaking to her.  
   
She couldn’t eat. The fine food was tasteless in her worry. She knew where she wanted to be, and it was anywhere but here.  
   
Her father was seated across from her. Once Ashton made eye contact with him, he nodded to her with a firm smile. Relieved, Ashton excused herself immediately and slunk out of the dining hall.  
 

* * *

  
   
Voices echoed down the hallways. She found Laurent and Sylvia outside of throne room, engaged in heated conversation. Though she was too far for them to see her, she caught their every word.  
   
“It was not me who brought up the issue.” Laurent’s voice was tired but sharp.  
   
“..Perhaps not, but you didn’t hesitate to butt in to sow chaos,” Sylvia muttered.  
   
“I did not create any chaos. If anything, I brought the conversation back to focus.”  
   
She tossed her hair away from her eyes. “To focus in on what, exactly?”  
   
Laurent frowned. His fingers ground together in his fist. “...What needs to be done. I don’t want anything terrible to come from this… That’s all.”  
   
“Dad already said there’s nothing to be done. Even he doesn’t like it. It’s terrible, but…”  
  
Laurent shut his eyes, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t you say you’re not showing enough concern?”  
   
“I’d say you’re too concerned,” Sylvia quipped. “Our hands are tied. You know this. How much can your arguing accomplish, even in front of the royal court?”  
   
Laurent’s expression darkened. He lifted his head to retort but stopped when he saw Ashton. She had gotten only 10 feet away from them before they noticed her.  
   
Ashton forced a smile, unsure how to approach him. “We missed you at dinner, Laurent…”  
   
His eyes darted to the ground. He waved his hand. “I already ate.”  
   
Sylvia’s expression was hidden behind her cascading bangs.  
   
“Guys, things will be okay,” said Ashton. “You both don’t need to argue with each other over this. You’ll stress yourselves out more, and it won’t solve anything.”  
   
A moment of quiet, before Laurent raised his head. “Ashton’s right. It doesn’t solve anything...” The bite in his words made Ashton wince. He walked passed her without a second glance. “I’m headed to bed.”  
   
Ashton turned. “Laure-”  
   
Sylvia’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. The princess looked on, her face even and unreadable. “Rest well, Laurent. We’ll see you again in the morning.”  
   
Laurent paused. Then his expression softened, with even a slight smile to ease the moment. With nothing more than a nod, he left down the hallway.  
   
Ashton swallowed. “Are you sure?”  
   
She instantly shook her head. “It’s better if he calms down first, at least. Let’s walk for now.” Sylvia started off without Ashton agreeing. It was one of those times where it difficult to read her thoughts. She caught up to her friend quickly, walking in silence.  
   
Finally, Sylvia sighed heavily. “I am so, so sorry for all of this.”  
   
Ashton frowned. “Why are you apologizing to me?”  
   
“Well, you can’t be having fun right now with everything as it is. I certainly hoped Laurent wouldn’t have had one of his moments so publicly like that.” As Ashton opened her mouth to reply, Sylvia waved a hand. “You know, I’m quite tired of this topic. We should be able to speak of lighter things, even if the world falls to pieces around us,” she said, her tone back to her usual lilt. Sylvia glanced to her with a slight smile. “You know, I’m starting to prefer you with shorter hair.”  
   
It took Ashton a second to realize the subject change. Her face paled. “Oh, no…” She pressed her hands to her head. “Why’d you bring that up? I was just starting to forget.”  
   
Sylvia chuckled. “It’s not bad at all, Ashton. It’s grown out more since… what happened.”  
   
Ashton pursed her lips. “I guess. Joshua definitely stopped trying to cast any spells in the house since.”  
  
Sylvia’s laughter tinkled through the hallways. It sounded brighter, less dour than the glum expression her friend wore just a few moments before. The two continued down the hallways, swapping stories about the trials of being a big sister. Ashton had some idea they were heading away from the public rooms and towards the royal family’s living quarters.  
   
The room they entered was one changed into a painting studio. Blank canvases and splattered drop cloths were piled neatly by the far wall. The smell was thick with paint and nostalgia. Ashton spent many days making a mess instead of learning how to paint here, settling instead to watch Queen Vivien as she worked with Sylvia by her side. The queen was usually composed and reserved, but her still life paintings were wild with color and thick, textured strokes. Even the plainest bowl of fruit was reborn with odd and unexpected color. Most finished pieces were on display throughout ]the castle, but if she sold any it was under a false name.  
   
“She just finished this one before she left,” Sylvia said, guiding Ashton to a large and wide canvas. It depicted an explosion of every possible color, with golden roses and splintering purple leaves bursting forth in an arc. She wanted to fall into the painting if she could, to let the colors surround her in her descent.  
   
“It’s so amazing…” Ashton smiled, maybe too light-headed from being so close to the drying paint. “But you know, I think that one is still my favorite.”  
   
She looked up at the oldest painting in the room, which hung in a mahogany frame with a simple gilded line surrounding it. It depicted a young man with long blond hair. He was masked in purple and blue shadow, staring forward toward a thin sliver of light. The eyes were illuminated, looking in the distance with hesitant but glad resolve. It was the queen’s only portrait.  
   
Ashton held her hands behind her back. “I feel like you can tell it has a lot of meaning. It’s weird to see the king so young. Even weirder that Laurent looks so much like him. Right?”  
   
Ashton turned. Sylvia didn’t respond. She stared forward, uninterested in hiding the distress on her face. The slightest twitch of her mouth was enough to signal something was wrong.  
   
Sylvia opened her mouth to speak, but let it fall in a sigh. “Have you ever thought about why my brother and I compete over such stupid things?”  
  
_Stupid…?_ Ashton tentatively shook her head. “I’ve always thought you both had fun with it.”  
   
“I hate it.” Sylvia picked up a brush, only to grimace and put it down again. “I believe I started it out of frustration long ago. It’s not as if he would follow me everywhere growing up, but he didn’t say no when I asked him to. We’ve been at it for so long now, but more and more, it seems like the only way we spend time with each other. I can even count the number of when I’ve spent time with him outside of meals on one hand.  
   
“Normally I don’t pout about it, but since news of Fendel broke, he’s been suspiciously interested in it. He’s argued with Dad about it before, and now he brings it up at the council as if to mock him.”  
   
“Laurent’s not like that.”  
   
“No?” Sylvia’s eyes fixed themselves on her. “Then explain it to me, please.”  
   
Ashton sat back on her heels, piecing her thoughts together. “He’s… worried. At least that’s what it sounds like to me. I think in his own way, Laurent is looking for some way to help. And maybe since he’s hearing it won’t work, he’s working even harder. He didn’t sound like he was mocking the king, but trying to convince him.”  
   
Sylvia huffed a sigh. “He’s always so contrary.”  
   
 _That’s just how he gets with you._ But Ashton bit back that thought. “Well, what would you want to do?”  
   
“Me? I would stay out of it, just as I’m trying now.” Sylvia seemed unconvinced with herself. “It doesn’t help, but it doesn’t hinder. Though I do agree that that seems like an impossible task now, especially after the letter…”  
   
“What letter?”  
   
Sylvia pursed her lips. “Before the borders closed, before we knew of all the chaos in the north, rumors of the Chancellor made their way to us. He was trying to calm both the old blood and the new rebels, but he hid how bad it was becoming. That’s why we stayed in Windor, to await news, while Mom went to Strahta alone to keep our schedule.  
   
“Do you know? Dad didn’t always want to stay out of it. Some weeks ago, I overheard him making plans to send one of our diplomats over as a show of goodwill. But before anything could be done, it came.”  
   
Ashton tapper her chin, plotting the timeline out in her head. “This was when Fendel’s chancellor was kicked out, right? Was he asking for help?”  
   
“Not him.” Sylvia shook her head, “The letter came from Captain Malik.”  
   
Ashton’s heart sank. “He sent it…?”  
   
Sylvia nodded. “I didn’t see the letter myself, but it said he and Moroz had barely escaped Zavhert, warning that interfering would make everything worse. Dad was shocked, but what more could be done? All plans for aid ground to a halt, but it was around then Laurent somehow found out.”  
   
Sylvia picked up a brush again. She held it in both hands as if she might snap it in two.  “I wish I could hide away from all this. Not to let someone else bear the burden, but so no one has to. To think that conflict is so close to our door is frightening.”  
   
Ashton stared at the brush. She felt her own hands ball into fists, distracting her from the tears welling in her eyes. “...Who wouldn’t be scared?” She moved to her friend, taking the paintbrush away and setting it back down. “I think we all are, in our own way.”  
   
“I suppose that’s true. There’s… a weight what’s happening, like glass about to fall to pieces.” Sylvia’s smile perked up again before it faded. “Still, is this the right decision…? What if we’re all wrong to leave this be? And the right thing to do is force our aid.”  
   
Ashton glanced at the king’s portrait. Growing up, he always seemed so resolute, so certain in the way to lead. Yet, for some reason, when he spoke that night, it didn’t ease the twisting feeling in her gut.  
   
Quietly, she said, “I trust dad, and I trust King Richard, but something just doesn’t sit right with me. If Fendel is in trouble, is there nothing we can do? If someone did help, then maybe Fendel could find a way out of the mess they’re in.”  
   
“You’re sounding a lot like Laurent, you know. And he was essentially sent to bed without supper.”  
   
“I think I’ll be able to understand more if I talk to Laurent. Not just about what Fendel or Windor needs, but what he really wants to do. I still think he wants to help more than anything. It’s just that maybe… For him helping means going opposite what everyone else is thinking.”  
   
Sylvia stared at Ashton for a long time, then she glanced up again to the portrait. “What is my brother trying to do? He thinks he’s the only one with any vision?” A gloomy look flashed across the princess’s face before her shoulders slumped. With a sigh, she murmured, “I’ve run out of things to say to him, sadly. Maybe when it comes from you, and especially not me… He would actually listen.”  
   
Ashton’s heart twinged. “...I’m not trying to convince him of anything, and I don’t think he’s going to do anything. I just want to hear it from him first.”  
   
“And how often have you saved us from ourselves by playing mediator?” Sylvia flashed her a coy smile. “I would have tied him up in the throne room for questioning by now.”  
   
“I… I think I’ll go talk to him first.”  
   
Sylvia stifled a laugh. “Thank you…” Her normally cool gaze blossomed into warmth. “I may have some peace of mind yet, with you here.”  
 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> March 13th. Last year on that day I made this project live where I finally let myself talk about it rather than just bothering a close friend or two. I love that I'm falling in love with writing again, and as I write each chapter, RoP is expanding. It's been wonderful! But tough. But wonderful.
> 
> Also, I made March 13th Ashton's birthday! Yay canon birthdays! I got more where that came from so if that interests you... thanks.

Ashton rapped her knuckles against Laurent’s bedroom door. She waited, biting her lip. “Laurent?” she called. “It’s Ashton. Are you awake?”

Still nothing. Her foot tapped nervously against the polished floor. Half of her was grateful since she had no real idea what she would say, but she wasn’t leaving yet. She raised her fist to knock louder, but the door handle clicked. Slowly, Laurent peered out at her. He was still dressed, but his long golden hair lay loose around his shoulders. Nothing could stop his bangs from curling to the side, no matter what he tried.

Laurent tilted his head, unamused. “I would ask if something was wrong,” he said dryly, “but I believe I know why you’re here.”

Ashton gave a weak smile. “I told Sylvia I wanted to ask more about your side. I’ve heard about what has been going on, too… I’m sorry.”

Laurent sighed, humor returning to his voice. “Had I not made myself clear before dinner? Though perhaps more was lost in translation with the ‘scene’ I made than I realized.”

A smile tugged at her lips. Laurent’s sarcasm was a welcome change. Yet when Ashton opened her mouth to reassure him, she lost the words mid-way. “It wasn’t… that bad.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. Ashton winced. “A-and, I heard about the letter Captain Malik sent, too. Look, you’re not alone in this. It’s obvious to me that everyone is worried.”

“It’s obvious to me as well. Enough words were exchanged today to make that clear.” Laurent nudged the door open, crossing his arms. He stared at her frankly. “I’d rather hear what you think. Besides your question in the throne room, I don’t think I’ve heard a word from you.”

Ashton blinked. Besides feeling terrible about how little could be done, what else was there?

“I think…” She kneaded her fingers in her hands. “I know we need to do something. But I don’t know what. Everyone seems to be against helping, but even then, everyone hates that they can’t. It just seems like there’s more that’s holding everyone back. Even Dad doesn’t think it would help.”

Laurent’s fingers drummed his chin. “That’s true. Lord Asbel would have been one of the first to suggest taking action… But surely you haven’t sided with your father on every point and conflict that’s come up?”

“W-what?”

In a gentler voice, he said, “I’m… not saying it’s a defect. It shows you get along, I suppose.”

 _Well, who’s to say it’s true…?_ Ashton’s grip tightened around her fingers. I don’t agree every time. Yet in racking her brain for examples, she found nothing big. Things with her father had always been pleasant, but now she started to regret it.

_Why is he. Saying these things? Is he your friend?_

Ashton felt her eyes drop to the floor. She tried to respond, but her body lagged.

“It’s just that I’ve heard it all before. Although they mean well, thought without action is useless. When someone says ‘all we can do is wait,’ my stomach curls.”

Something whispered to her. He is looking. For something different.

“Not like discussion will change anything at this point.” Laurent scuffed the door with his foot.

Ashton’s mind flickered back to attention. Her drying mouth suddenly had the ability to move. She shook her head.

“I wish it would. I thought things were peaceful between us and Fendel.” A dull, numbing headache swelled, but she tried pushing it away. “It can’t be that hard for us to come together again. Fendel should be coming to us for help, not pushing us away.”

“Exactly.” Laurent threw his head to the side.  “And yet everyone is looking at me like I’m the cause of trouble.”

“They’re just worried about you.”

“They don’t have to be.”

“I’m worried about you…”

Laurent didn’t move. Slightly, his head dipped, his eyes guilty and voice soft. “I’m serious. There’s nothing to worry about now. My father made his point clear.” He crossed his arms, fingers covering his own mouth.

_Is this his. Sadness?_

Ashton winced. Her head started to throb.

“Believe me, I will be grateful if it doesn’t come to worst. …But what of the future?” He shook his head. ”We can’t always hide behind another’s choice. Once we are older, when does it truly become our responsibility? When will our worries hold weight?” Bitterly, he added, “We can’t wait for the world to fall in our laps once they’re done.”

Her breath shallowed. She struggled to stay upright.

Laurent spoke passionately, oblivious to her struggle. “The future marches on without us. You can’t really believe something until you see it with your own eyes.”

The words fizzled on Ashton’s ears. She tried catching them, but her mind quickly became mush. There was something pressing against her mind, a weight that tugged at her heart.

“…Are you alright?”

She looked up. It was as if Laurent, his face full of worry, finally saw her. He put a hand on her shoulder. “You look pale. What’s wrong?”

It took all of Ashton’s strength to shake her head. “Nothing. I just… don’t think I ate enough at dinner, maybe.”

Laurent frowned. “I can call someone to bring you food. I can at least walk you to your room.”

“No, no, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” She flashed a smile. “I guess today’s been crazier than I was prepared for.”

Laurent’s hand fell back to his side. He shook his head at the ground. “Indeed. I don’t think today went as anyone wanted it to.” He sighed, and with one last glance, Laurent started to close the door.

“W-wait.” Ashton reached out a hand to hold it still, but it landed on the front instead. She tilted a bit, off balance from simply standing. Laurent moved as if to catch her. She stayed on her feet.

“Just…” She bit her lip. Right now, this was nothing short of pleading. “Tell me you’re not planning anything crazy.”

His face softened. “I’m not.” He seemed let down that he couldn’t answer otherwise. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ashton. Good night.”

“Good night,” she said as Laurent closed the door. Ashton stood there longer than she wanted. She wrung her hands, then slowly, she began to move. It didn’t take as much effort to move her feet as she feared. Her hand braced against the cool, stone wall. She focused on the sound of air moving through her lungs. Her hand sliding against the wall, she made her way down to her room. Every step brought more clarity to her mind. If only it would clear up the mess in her heart.

Step forward. Strike. Pivot. Block. Step again.

Ashton’s boots scuffed against the hardwood floor.

Backstep. Strike. Tighten your grip. A flying sword is only effective once. Strike, parry, strike.

She breathed in cadence with her movements. If she kept at it, it would soon all become automatic, but she couldn’t reach that point. She pushed herself into the rhythm to force that natural stance, a waltz to calm her mind.

Slow down, mind your surroundings. Look with your eyes, trust the hairs on your neck. Don’t overestimate your strength but fear not your opponent’s.

Ashton halted and let out a steady breath, just like she was trained to do. She took another one in, held it. She waited for her hurried heartbeats to slow before letting it go. Instead, it fell out of her mouth in a sigh, as she fell back onto the bed behind her. The pristine ceiling stared back at her. Practicing sword drills usually helped to clear her mind, even in her sourest moods. Either that or playing the piano.

Her sheathed sword laid beside her when it fell from her hand. For once,  she was grateful she had the whole guest room to herself. She didn’t need to make excuses or keep her composure in front of her father or anyone, but at the same time, it was almost too quiet for her to bear. She was almost tempted to find him, ask him what else she missed when she left, but she didn’t.

Ashton’s grip tightened around her sword. She closed her eyes, and her body sank deeper into the mattress. _Why isn’t there anything I can do…?_

What did Laurent mean by all that? In the pit of her stomach, she knew it: She wasn’t that strong. Panic usually made her act, but otherwise, she was locked in place, scrambling to do something. Anything. She was spoiled. Miss Bellamy’s words bubbled into her mind. She could still remember the other woman’s tight, confident smile when she spoke.” _Then you'd better be grateful you're granted this edge. Although, others have managed higher achievements without being as spoiled as you._

A frown sat stiff on her face. She stretched her left hand to the ceiling. The lamp from the other corner of the room masked the back of her hand in shadow. The front glowed dimly as if some power dwelled in it. She lowered her hand to her face. Her palm rested on her cheek, just over her left eye. She remembered the blocks, the searching, the ever-present eyes watching from afar. Maybe if she reached deep enough, if her heart ached enough…

But nothing stirred. If anything, her headache pulsed to life again. “Even if I asked for help…” she muttered. _It’s not like I would get it._

Lambda wouldn’t be able to do much, anyway. Maybe there could be some advice, some words he could say to help her out. But then she’d be relying on someone else’s words, just like Laurent said.

Could her heart get any more pathetic than that? Tear bubbled to her eyes. The first sign of trouble and she was already looking for a way out. It wasn’t even enough to beat herself up over.

_But it was not your fault. Not knowing was nothing to feel shame for._

Ashton’s eyes flickered closed. Her hand grew heavy over her eye as it slid off her face to land on her chest.

_Laying alone in your worry. Would only make it grow. Weight will hold you down. Sadness is more. More than a heart should handle. More than can be understood._

Something pulled her away. Her body refused to move, but she shivered. For what she could tell, her own voice rustled in her ear.

_Your admirable heart is kind. If pain. Is a sign that something is wrong. It makes sense to take it away. Pain drives apart. Always seek to give, yes? Always seek to give._

_But maybe. Giving. Can be accomplished in taking. You risk yourself to aid another. Not a second thought. Instinct. You take their pain instead. But where else can the pain go? It shouldn’t exist, to begin with._

_Seek its source? Root it out completely? Though sorrow is an endless font. We can stop. Stop it, somehow._

No movement. Barely even breathing. A comfortable feeling enveloped her, but the core of it felt wrong.

_Is the source in the north? Could it be stopped? He seems to think so._

Her fingers twitched. Laurent…?

_If we fail to act, we fail to stop their pain. Yes? Isn’t that what he said?_

_Yet. He causes pain as he leaves._

Ashton winced.

“And he is almost gone.”

Her eyes shot open. A low groan escaped her as she dealt with being awake. The ceiling looked foreign as if she had no idea where she was. She pulled herself off the bed with great resistance. Her head pounded. The bright lights were still on, yet it felt like she had slept for days. Her thoughts made no sense. A font of pain? She was worse off than she thought.

She bit her lip to focus. Words from before swam back to the surface of her mind.

_Is… Laurent leaving?_

Silence pressed at her ears, leading to her quickening heartbeat. Ashton scoffed at herself. “What am I thinking…?”

The door stood poised in front of her. She could simply go check his room. It couldn’t be that late where she would be a bother. She staggered to the door. The metal handle was cold, sending a shiver up her arm. She needed two hands just to pull it open.

Darkness swallowed the castle halls. Only the occasional eleth lamp lit the way. Absolute silence told her it was later than she feared. The light from her room cast her shadow on the far wall, but she was otherwise alone.

She started down the hall, her footsteps surprisingly light against the floor. A chill shuddered through her arms, the cold night pressing at all sides. Her steady pace brought her to her destination. She turned the corner and-

Stumbled back. Shifting fabric, a light clatter of items getting moved about. Hushed voices she couldn’t recognize. They switched off the light from Laurent’s room.

“That’s everything, your highness,” said a voice.

“I can carry that.”

Ashton tensed. Panicked clarity sharpened her mind. She peeked around the corner. Two men in plain clothes and swords at their belts handed off a carrying case to Laurent. As he moved it onto this shoulder, the clatter of arrows inside was unmistakable. The light from the lamps never reached his face.

“We can’t linger, your highness. The ship should have left already.”

“We are long overdue as it is, don’t you think?” Laurent said, his voice low. “Let’s head down immediately.”

Each man pressed his fist against his chest. They were knights. They left quickly, footsteps echoing down the hall toward the front gates. Ashton dashed back to her room, not bothering to close the door behind her. She bunched her hands in her hair, fingers pressing into her scalp. “I have to stop him.” Her eyes darted around the room. “I have to tell someone…! Dad, the king…”

No, it was too late. The time it would take to find someone else, wake them, and send them to the docks wouldn’t catch him. They would only catch the tread in the waters.

The future marches on without us.

Her sword lay on the bed where she left it. Ashton’s hands left her head and fell to her sides. Nothing would stop Laurent from leaving. But maybe.

Just maybe.

She grabbed her sword.

Ashton bolted from the castle to the docks. The city was empty. Could such a thing have been planned? Her breath rattled too loud in her chest to consider it for long. She stopped at the landing in the middle of the stairs, the late-night air stinging her lungs. A ship was tied to the harbor, but people already were moving to their last steps to set sail. Soldiers in plain clothes, the same as the ones she saw leaving with Laurent. Their destination was no question.

The waters were cold, dark, eerie, magnifying with the anxiety beating in her heart. The ridiculousness of it all- A disheveled girl staring down a boat in the middle of the night. She shouldn’t. She already knew what was happening. She should head back, find a better way to bring Laurent home.

The ship did not blow a barge horn. It started in the water by its eleth engine, moving slowly before quickly increasing in speed. Ashton’s chest swelled.

It was no longer of a question of should she. But how fast she could run.

She pressed her sword to her hip and launched down the stairs, leaping down two steps at a time. The ship moved faster, and she was already running out of space to run. A lone rope dangled from the side of the ship. She hoped it was tied to something on deck, but only after she leaped off the pier.

Fingers grazed the tread of the rope. Her body slammed into the side of the boat. She yelped. Her hands stung, but she gripped the rope tight. Ashton hissed in pain. “Augh, this is dumb.” Her feet dangled above the pushing water, her tights catching on the wooden hull. The ship rocketed forward, and she was quite literally at the end of her rope. “This is really, really stupid.” The distance up to the deck looked endless, but it either was that or be swallowed up in the water. She threw her other hand as high as she could, her biceps burning as she pulled herself up, inch by inch.

Feet clattered against the wooden deck above her, but she was too worried about keeping her grip to feel relieved. “Man overboard!” a voice shouted. Ashton still climbed up as the rope slowly pulled her up. Hands lifted her off the side of the ship. She sat against the wall, breathing hard, ocean spray chilling her skin.

“Who’s the girl?”

She didn’t answer, still in shock of what she did.

“Ashton…?”

She looked up in a flash. Laurent stood in the doorway to the cabin, his hand pressed against the frame. She knew he wasn’t more than ten feet away, but it somehow felt longer. Maybe only now she could realize the distance between them.

Ashton pushed herself from the ground, taking a guiding hand from one of the knights. Other crew members spilled onto the deck to see what washed up. She didn’t take her eyes off Laurent. “Not going to ask why I’m here…?”

“I’m still surprised that you are,” he said, his gaze steady.

 _Yeah, me too_ , she thought, smoothing out her skirt to fill the silence.

Laurent looked to the members of the ship crew and gestured for them to continue. They started to clear the deck, continuing their jobs from before. Laurent strode towards her. Ashton stood her ground. His voice was low, soft. “You should realize what’s happening here.”

“Well, I realize you basically lied to me,” she said, tilting her head. “You said you weren’t going to do anything crazy.”

Laurent’s eyes dropped. He didn’t say a word.

“Either way… I guess I should have known nothing I said would have stopped you.” She set her hands on her hips, biting back a sigh. “Just tell me, Laurent: Do you really believe you can do something about Fendel?”

A careful pause. Laurent swallowed and raised his chin. “I believe I have to.”

“And everyone on this ship. They believe in it too?”

“I would not ask anyone to join me who wasn’t willing.”

“That’s a relief, then.” She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “This feels a lot like me chasing after one of my brothers’ schemes. Except much, much bigger. But I want you to know, Laurent, I believe in you.”

Whatever answer he was expecting, Ashton surprised him. The tension shed from his shoulders. Not even the dim light of the moon could hide his relief.

Ashton met his gaze with her own. “We can’t let terrible things happen if we can stop it, and I don’t want to keep living my life as if it’s not happening. I don’t want to let my own worries get in the way anymore. We’re all here under one sky, you know? I want to keep it safe. If one person hurts, we’re all connected to it. Reaching out a hand to help is all we can do. So we have to do it.” She thrust her hand out to him. With a start, Laurent stared at it. “Let me help you get to Fendel. This way, we both get the chance to see with our own eyes. Not through anyone else’s.”

Laurent’s eyes flickered from Ashton, to her outstretched hand, then back to Ashton. The surprise on Laurent’s face slowly gave way to something worse: amusement. “You were always a busy body,” he mused.

Ashton balked. Did he listen to a thing she said? She did a whole speech and everything. “Anyone would be worried if their friend was sneaking away from home in the middle of the night.”

“Enough to leap on the side of a departing ship at a full run?” After a second, Laurent’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Ashton’s hand started to falter. “Hey, don't make fun...”

He shook his head, hiding a smile. “I would never. It's just that someone who would-” He stopped. He gingerly grasped her hand in his. They both squeezed, a grim smile on both of their faces. Laurent let go first. “Why don't we go and get you settled? Our ship is bound directly for Fendel. It will be a few days before we make landfall.”

The realization of how long they’d be gone hit Ashton like the waves pressing against the ship’s hull. The beautiful line of Barona’s coast grew farther and farther away behind her. As Laurent began to lead her below deck, she stopped.

“What is it?” Laurent stopped where he was.

Ashton dropped her gaze. “I didn’t tell my dad I was going.”

Laurent paused, then took in a breath. “As I expected. I’ll just have to ensure you’ll be home safe when we’re through.” His smile was small but kind.

 _Isn’t that my line?_ She bit back the words, caught in the same smile he gave her. She turned back to face the city behind her. She had no idea what her father would do. She had never done anything like this before. But she knew what he’d want from her.

 _I promise I’ll do everything I can to come back home again._ She pressed her palm against the hilt of her sword. _To keep Laurent safe, too._

“…Explain this, Prince Laurent.”

Ashton knew that voice. She tore her eyes away from the receding coast and spun around.

Watching her with an arched eyebrow, Miss Evette Bellamy flashed her a cutting glare.  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having thrown herself into Fendel's civil war, Ashton finds those who need their help are far from friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may have been almost two months since the last update, but I've been writing more than ever! Lots of one-shots, including a side story for RoP. If you liked what you saw of those twin boys in Lhant, consider checking it out! https://rootsof-promise.tumblr.com/post/184435192786
> 
> Shout out again to Certified Best Girl Frozenleaf!! Go read her stuff!! https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frozenleaf

“Of all the complications…” Bellamy muttered as she led Ashton and Laurent down from the deck.

Ashton gripped her own fingers, trying to ignore how Bellamy’s cold, judging voice made her feel. Walking behind her, Laurent squeezed her shoulder. She appreciated it, but wasn’t sure how much it would help.

Bellamy lead them to a repurposed dining room. The older woman walked around the table in the center of the room, which was bolted to the floorboards to better suit it for the waves. On it lay rolled scrolls and flattened papers under carved stone paper weights.

Bellamy set both palms atop the table and leaned. She looked different than before, with no makeup and her hair in a loose braid at her neck. Two long strands framed her face as before, but Ashton could see how tired she looked.

“If you’re worried about Ashton,” Laurent began, “you shouldn’t be, Miss Bellamy. We could easily find a place for her holding the front lines.”

Bellamy’s gaze was cool. “Right now, my main concern is not what she can do, but why she’s here at all,”

“He didn’t tell me about this,” said Ashton, stone-faced. “I came on my own once I realized he was gone.”

“And does your father know you’re with us?”

The girl bit her lip. “No. No, he doesn’t.”

The woman straightened. “Then you see my concern. Your disappearance would trigger too much suspicion. Not to mention you endanger yourself.”

Ashton swallowed. “Maybe so… But does the king know what you're doing? He made it clear that we’re not to interfere with Fendel. And there are so many here with you...”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “How much do you know about the situation? Not everything a king says or does can be taken at face value, especially when it comes to politics.” Bellamy sighed, rubbing her forehead.  Exhaustion was plastered on her face, and up close, there were shadows under her eyes. She moved to a chair and sat. “Please, tell me what you do know. Spare no detail.”

Tensely, Ashton obeyed. Bellamy listened quietly, but her face showed no surprise at Ashton’s words.

Finally, the older woman sighed. “Did you know that King Richard hasn’t been truthful in the exploits of his kingdom?”

Ashton frowned. “He would never lie.”

“Dear girl, even the most honest person hides truth sometimes, if it’s to protect something more important.”

Laurent cleared his throat from behind Ashton. “Miss Bellamy, I don’t believe you’re being clear enough. May I explain?”

Bellamy stopped, and then nodded while waving her hand. She smiled apologetically. “If you’re in a better mood than I, please do.”

The prince rounded Ashton to the table. When he glanced at her, his expression was softer than Bellamy’s. Maybe he understood Ashton’s impulses better than she. He picked up two envelopes.

“My father was planning on ways we could help long before their obvious messages of closing the border. Correspondence with Moroz told us the need was increasing, so we were asked to contact the rebel group and provide them with food and protection, as Fendel was struggling to do just that. Then we received the letter… and you know how that turned out. However, that letter came some months ago. This one,” Laurent said, laying out two letters. “This one was discovered recently. See for yourself.”

Ashton leaned over and read with a frown. Both had the same handwriting- the same she recognized from birthday cards in the mail. They both laid out Fendel’s situation, with the government threatening to mutiny and the increasing dissatisfaction of the rebels, with identical script.

“They look the same,” she muttered. “It’s the captain’s handwriting too.”

The last paragraph of each, however, was different. The words shifted, painting a different picture of desperation.

_Please, do not come to Fendel during this time._

_Please, if you can find some way to reach us…_

She looked up in worry. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you see it, on the one we received first? Someone tried to copy the lettering, but in the end was too sloppy. The captain…” Laurent took a breath. “Ambassador Caesar would never turn his back on Fendel. Which stands to reason the first letter is a fake. The real letter asked for aid all along.”

Bellamy rested her hands over the maps and scrolls. “Once I found this and brought it to the king’s attention, we continued with the plan. That someone would tamper with the situation only proves its necessity.” She stood and paced, setting her hand behind her back. “Our mission is to bring the splint that will help bring Fendel back together. We will answer the rebel’s call, bring them invaluable supplies and rations, and hope to cut a path in which more supplies can be delivered.

“Chancellor Moroz has a good section of the military with him, those who followed him. The problem is bringing the other groups together. The rebels are smaller, but they aren’t fond of Moroz either. They believe his lax leadership was the start of all this.”

“Moroz lives in the middle ground,” Laurent said, talking as if he knew him personally. “Those who favor extremes don’t think so highly of him. But instead of facing them, he goes into hiding.” He shook his head. “I can’t agree with that choice.”

“…What would you do?” Ashton gave him a look.

Laurent fixed on her with the same, determined look as the one he wore when he addressed his father. “I would stand together, not show that I feared for my own life when the country needed more care. Someone who hides is not someone worth following.”

Ashton blanched at Laurent’s words. His stubbornness was rare, but it made her uneasy. “If he’s in hiding, then neither side knows where they are? I think it would be better if we could meet with them as well as the rebels. Or at least find them quick.”

Bellamy put the letters back into a crisp black paper folio. “If we were to seek out the Chancellor and his men, we could too easily lead the army to them. Delivering our support and supplies comes first. Fendel will need the legs to stand on before they can move on.”

“Oh…” It was all she could think to say.

Laurent crossed his arms. “It would be better to bring the rebels and the Chancellor together as soon as possible.” He strode forward. “Caution is good, Miss Bellamy, but we need to be thinking of what we will do beyond aiding just one of the three groups.”

“This plan will do just that,” said Bellamy. “Have more faith in those around you, Prince Laurent.”

”But I feel we’ve gone on long enough. I have another question for you, Ashton Lhant. Why are you here? Don’t say it was because you didn’t want to leave His Highness alone.”

The girl in question gripped her hands. She didn’t want to deny it if that’s what Bellamy already thought. Ashton took a breath. “Well, I’m no stranger to Fendel. My home is right by the border, and I’ve met many people just passing through. Traders, civilians, everything. There’s no way Fendel deserves this war, even if most of it is happening where I can’t see it.”

As Bellamy listened, a smile pulled at her lips. “Not bad of an answer, with that idealism. But there’s more to conflict than ‘who deserves it’. Most often it’s about who stands to lose, and who stands to gain.”

The woman continued. “But I do agree with you… Fendel does not deserve this war. For me, Fendel has been a home away from home, especially as home was nothing but…”

Ashton was surprised at the sudden honesty. “Did something happen?”

Bellamy waved her hand, her voice lighter. “Let’s not dredge it up, Miss Ashton, My work with Fendel has helped me in many ways. I am Windor born, but with my time spent in Zavhert, I might call it home as well.” She was back to the cheerier version of herself Ashton had met that day. She smiled ruefully. “I’ve kept you long enough, I’m afraid. I’d even guess you’re tired of this inquisition.”

Not sure if she should be grateful or not, Ashton bowed regardless. “What happens now?”

“We prepare,” said Laurent, “Rocks cover Fendel’s coast, but once we reach it, we’ll be met by rebels. We’ll have to carry our offerings: Food, clothes, cryas. Some people who haven’t seen their home in weeks.” He smiled. “They’ll need a friendly hand.”

Ashton returned the smile, nodding. “Let’s give it all we got.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Then I suggest you both get some sleep. The hour is late, and you are both still young.”

A yawn took over Ashton’s next thought. “I nearly forgot… Tonight hasn’t been the easiest for me.”

“Do you still feel dizzy?” Laurent eyed her.

Bellamy frowned. “Dizzy?”

Ashton waved her hand. “No no, just sleepy. Really.”

“You had nearly toppled over last I saw you,” Laurent reminded.

“Then by all means,” Bellamy chided, “let the girl rest. Show her where to go, and make sure she gets a change of clothes. Fobrannir isn’t as kind to its people so Gloandi.”

Ashton thanked her and wished her good night. Laurent gestured to follow him. As she turned away, faint as the creaking of the ship around her, Bellamy whispered.

“…This has to work. I need it to.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

 

* * *

 

The clothes they provided Ashton did well enough against the cold, but her teeth rattled. They were old Fendel uniforms with all ensignia scratched off. Her jacket wrapped loosely around her body, but it was all they had to spare. She’d be foolish to wear her original clothes, a ruffled skirt, a frilly shirt, and lacy boots intended for a trip to Barona, into a place caked with ice.

Crags littered Fendel’s shore from the south, but that’s where a group of ten rebels waited to meet them. Under Bellamy’s careful scrutiny, the rag-tag crew of knights began off-loading their cargo.  A guide from the rebels lead their company into the winds and snow, beginning the long march inland.

Their company of around thirty people was split into three groups: the front cleared the path and fought off any threats, the middle carried bags and crates full of food and supplies, and the smaller group in the back covered threats from the rear. Laurent and Bellamy stayed in the middle. Their spells and Laurent’s archery allowed them to help from whatever side needed it most.

They had rounded a particular dense part of forest when the snarl of wolves crept from over the snowy ridge through the clustered trees. The howling wind masked it until the monsters were right on their heels.

A man ahead of her cried out a warning. Ashton drew her sword.

Three beasts charged at them, massive creatures with fangs white as snow. She swung her blade forward, shooting out a rippling wave of eleth across the ground. The monster barely flinched. The other wolves sped off to fight more armed rebels, leaving her with the first. It tried to bite her, but she slashed its legs, driving it back. She tried to advance, but snow cemented her boots in place.

The monster leaped, knocking her down and burying its teeth into her arm. With a cry, Ashton slammed her palm on the beast’s nose. Its teeth ground deeper.

Then brilliant light focused itself on the monster’s back. A woman’s voice cried out, “Photon Burst!” Fire exploded, and the wolf howled in pain. Grimacing, she scrambled up. The snow made terrible footing, and her arm was numb with pain. She threw another Demon Fang, but it was as useless as the first.

Arrows pelted the beast, and rapid blades of wind shredded it’s hide. Ashton dashed back, clutching the gash in her arm. Around her, the battle continued. Tears from the pain froze on her cheeks.

When she looked up, the fight was over. Her chest heaved from adrenaline, shivering from the cold. Footsteps crunched through the snow to find her. It was Bellamy, who sheathed a long, clean dagger. She wore the same uniform as the others, but she hid from the snow in a turtleneck and a thick hat. Despite her talk of Fendel being her second home, she seemed grumpier in the snow than ever. “Can you stand?”

Ashton nodded, in too much pain to speak. Bellamy took her elbow and lifted her faster than she wanted, but she was on her feet. The woman carefully examined her arm. “Where is your eleth tag?”

“My what?” Ashton squinted at her, then winced. Pain worsened with every second. Bellamy took her shoulders and brought her away from the battlefield. They passed Laurent, who turned to them, but he was called away before he could speak. Ashton lowered her head, not wanting to show her disappointment in herself. “I need a bandage… Some medicine, anything…”

Bellamy pulled her to an abrupt stop. Grumbling, she pulled a cloth cord from under her jacket and off her neck, then pressed its thin metal pendant against Ashton’s cheek. She winced, the warm metal stinging her frozen skin.

Then the metal glowed. Glinting silvery threads of eleth wove from it down Ashton’s body. The light wrapped her arm completely, focusing on the bite on her arm. The marks shimmered, then faded.

Bellamy gave a last minute smile. “Do you feel better?”

Ashton stared dumbly at her arm, then to Bellamy. “It felt…” _Like Sophie_ , she thought. Raising the pendant to her eye level, nostalgia filled her. Every scratch and bruise she had growing up was wiped away by that same healing magic. How was it the same?

“If you insist on becoming a monster’s lunch, then why don’t you keep that one? I’m not one for the front lines.” The woman gestured her to follow. Ashton gripped the eleth tag in her hand as she did. Bellamy brought her to the center of the company, where a normal looking eleth mixer was tied to the same carrying platform that held the supplies. The only difference from other mixers Ashton had seen was a glowing metal band around its neck.

“It’s a wondrous technology.” Bellamy traced a hand over the mixer’s edge. “It was once that mixers could only cook and generate items, but it's so much more now. Anyone can wear an eleth tag, that piece of metal, and if the connected module is active, it can heal any wound. As long as it touches the skin, that is.”

Ashton leaned in to the mixer. The band pulsed and dimmed with every person it healed. Eleth swirled in its center, shifting between rich purples and pale blues. “What’s it made from? The module, I mean.”

“I’m not completely sure,” Bellamy said with a frown. “As you can expect, it’s an Amarcian invention, but I believe the material is called derris ore... Have you heard of it?”

Hesitating, Ashton shook her head. She didn’t know, but it felt like she should. Some distant knowledge lingered on the edge of her mind, and it may have been connected to Sophie. She could only be sure when she could ask.

“Our mixer is fitted to handle groups of up to 50 people, and we have more mixers with us. The range is small, for now. With us to test it, I’m sure we’ll find ways to increase it.  These mixers should change the world someday.”

“I believe it...” Ashton gave it one last look before fitting it around her neck. She flexed her injured arm, testing its grip. It was still numb, expected from the healing, but she had full use of her fingers. Resting would be her best bet for now.

Ashton looked to those resting from the fight. Both knights and rebels worked together to carry the supplies across the snow. Different men, different countries, same uniform, same cause. Some part of her was touched by the idea of it.

“Why is it you get to relax in the middle while the rest of us sweat our asses off?!”

Behind her, not too far from where Ashton and Bellamy stood, a group of men and women from the rebels stood in a arc around Laurent. One was a man with a thick beard but a thin build. He thrust himself toward Laurent, who stood aggressively and defensively.

Laurent seemed to twitch. “I assure you,” he began, his tone painfully metered. “I am putting in as much work as you. I’m still working to defend the front.”

“Safe in the middle, while the rest of us become monster bait,” retorted a woman.

Ashton tensed. Before she could move closer to Laurent, Bellamy placed a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head slowly and went to him instead.

“You’re putting in nothing,” sneered a different man. “Why don’t you go over and carry those crates? We already have plenty of rocks to lug around here in Fendel. We don’t need your leftover scraps either.”

Laurent’s eyes glittered, his grip tightening on this bow. “They’re not scraps. We’ve gathered as much as we could bring with us, and more is on the way. You can accept it, or you can find local scraps to tide you over. If there are any.”

The bearded man clenched a fist. “You foist yourself on us, then you say we should be grateful?”

A large man from the back of their caravan loomed over the disturbance. He had long dark hair pulled back in a wide and frazzled ponytail. His face and cheeks were pink from the cold, but his chapped face told of many years spent out in the snow drifts. Ashton knew the man’s name: Elgan. He was the one leading the rebels on retrieving the supplies.

The rebels stepped back as soon as they saw Elgan. Laurent didn’t. He turned to face him. “May I help you?”

Elgan rolled his shoulders. “You would all do best to calm down,” he said, his voice deep and dry. “Run your mouths too much and you won’t have energy to run from monsters. Or the army.”

Soon, Bellamy came to Laurent’s side and was sending the angry group on their way. Ashton went toward Laurent. She crossed paths with the grumbling bearded man on her way. “Windor couldn’t grab someone important, so they just send us a kid.”

Ashton bit her tongue. She wanted to stand up for him, but she was a kid herself. However, she was sure both Laurent and the group were guilty of how it turned out. It bothered her. Laurent wasn’t usually so confrontational.

Laurent stayed in place, clenching and unclenching his hands, while Elgan eyed him with a raised brow. Bellamy was whispering hurriedly to Laurent, no doubt scolding him. Ashton broke the silence. “I guess everyone’s on edge, out here in the cold.”

Elgan’s gaze switched to her. Laurent gave a tight-lipped nod. “I was startled... I only meant to ask them if they were fit to continue, but it irritated them.”

Bellamy looked pointedly at Elgan. “We can’t keep stopping like this. How long until we reach your base?”

“Miss, it took us two days to find you on foot,” Elgan said tiredly. “That’s without all the supplies.”

Laurent took a breath. “The longer we’re out here, the easier for Fendel to find us. I don’t want to lead a trail to you after you’ve worked so hard to hide it.”

Ashton leaned out to view the back of their camp. Despite the number of people travelling, the snow behind them showed no sign of their path. Mages called the already cold winds to whip the snow to a more normal shape. That act alone slowed them down even more, notwithstanding the weight of the supplies.

Elgan, ever stoic, shook his head. “We don’t ask for it. If the army comes, they come. We can shake them off. We’re used to it.”

“We should focus more on what we need to do,” offered Ashton. “If it took two days to get here, it’ll take long to head back. Right?” She turned to Bellamy and Laurent. Laurent was still edgy and Bellamy, well, Ashton never knew what to make of her.

Suddenly Bellamy stepped forward and bowed. “Elgan, I apologize. May I please speak to you privately?”

Elgan stared at her, looking legitimately confused. Bellamy turned without another word and walked away, rubbing her fingers together in irritation. Elgan thundered on after her with a scratch of his head.

“That got tense quickly…” Ashton muttered.

Laurent tapped his fingers against his thigh. His eyes looked lost in a thought she would have trouble breaking. “This isn’t what I wanted. I’m finally able to do what I set out to, but…” He shook his head.  “They’re reaching out for help, but once they receive it, they scorn us?”

Ashton looked down at her feet. “It’s hard to ask for help, isn’t it? When you think you should handle it alone.” The people of Fendel were as stubborn as the icy winds that surrounded them. “We’re not that different, I think.”

Laurent scoffed. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. We’re both-”

“No, just. ‘I think.’” Laurent turned to her, his eyes tired. “You add that to your sentences too often.”

“What?”

“Don’t add such words to soften your opinions. I know you think. You’re the most thoughtful person I know.” He turned away. “Give your thoughts more credit. Speak your mind while it’s still your own.”

Ashton stared. He told her not to limit her own thoughts, yet he talked over her in the same breath as he gave her advice. Ashton opened her mouth to speak.

A man shouted an order. It was time to keep going. She clamped her mouth shut and turned away. Without thinking, Ashton rubbed her once injured arm.

He looked at her. “I had meant to ask how you were doing,” he said softly.

“It’s fine now.” Her voice was low. “I think… I’ll still fight.”

“Do you need to move back? I can try to trade places.”

She shook her head. “I’m no use anywhere else. I told you I would do what I can, and this is it.” She started walking to take her position in the front. Before leaving earshot, she turned around and forced a smile. “Just make sure you have my back.”

Laurent didn’t return the smile. “Very well.” He waved and then moved to his position in the center with Bellamy, watching out over everyone is in the company.

Ashton sighed. They were nearing the end of their first day trudging through snow. If this was how they fared, it might take more than eight days than the two the rebels needed. The thought of warm breezes, clear skies, her family at home. The civil war was barely noticed there, and now that she was in the thick of it, it seemed farther away than ever.

The whole group grumbled through the snow. After sometime, Ashton glanced back. Elgan’s eyes followed her. He was at the front, lifting a heavy clinking crate on his own. When their eyes met, he looked instead to the side.

Ashton turned back, goosebumps on her neck. She didn’t dare to look back to see if he kept staring.

She trudged on.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secret to a quicker update? Halve the usual chapter size 👍

Ashton was sick of seeing snow. It clogged her boots as the company trudged through uncleared forests, while frozen winds pushed them back. Rubbing her bare face back to feeling might make it fall off. The rest of her body was warm under the layers, but nonstop hiking made her joints stiff and sweaty.

She didn’t complain. Every step would bring her closer to a place to rest, and turning back now would be useless. Her legs, however, turned into jelly instead of listening to her. Ashton remained on the front lines, dispatching monsters left and right, until she was called to switch out, changing to carrying the supplies. Just walking didn’t feel right, not when there was so much distance to cover.

Since Laurent’s argument, talking between the knights and the rebels all but ended. Laurent kept to himself, though he moved himself to the front lines once Ashton was called back. When it seemed that the rebels would ignore her too, she tried striking up conversation with the others from Windor. They were far from the cheerful, bright nobles and knights she’d met before, choosing purposeful silence as they marched. Whatever ideals of noble rescue brought them this far seemed to die out. Now it was about getting to the end as quickly as possible.

The more they pressed into the interior, the more on edge everyone seemed to be. Ashton couldn’t blame them- the wildlife here was vicious, driven to desperate measures by the harsh climes.

And the threat of discovery by Fendel’s military lingered on everyone’s minds.

A yelp cracked through the air. Before her, a mass of giant beetles swarmed to them, surrounding a man who buckled and fell.

Ashton gasped and ran forward. Then the ground beneath the bugs bloomed in fire. The eleth rose in the air, morphing into a large, flickering blade of flame. The man scrambled back. The monsters tried to flee.

“Searing Saber!” Laurent’s voice. The blade flipped and burst as it pierced the ground. Sparks engulfed the insects, chasing them away from the man.

Sword drawn, Ashton jumped and swung, slamming the massive insect to the ground. She ducked the monster’s swoop, then flung out her arm to knock it from the air again.  

The man clutched his arm, which glowed with the eleth tag’s magic. Others rushed in to fend off the rest while the man was dragged to safety. The large silhouette that was Elgan charged in first. He swatted the monsters down with the flat of his ax, knocking them off course.

Ashton chased after one of the larger beetles and swung, her blade finding air instead of monster. The beetle’s wings hummed at a dizzying decibel as it darted back to her. She was ready. Ashton spun, using her momentum to swing her boot high, then slammed it down on its head. With a grunt, she jammed her blade through the monster’s thorax.

Breathing hard, Ashton rested her head on the hilt of her sword, which was stuck in the monster. The other beetles were already dead in the snow, baring scorch marks and studded with slashes.

Looking back to the company, she saw Laurent lower his bow. He nodded to her, expressionless, then turned away.

Ashton frowned. It had been too long since they spoke, with him keeping his distance from the others. Maybe she upset him by walking off after he offered to switch places with her. After he all but criticized how she talked.

“Errgh! Why don’t it heal already?!”

The man from before clutched his arm as he shuffled to his feet. Ashton pulled her blade free, wiped it off in the snow before sheathing it, and turned. The man was skinny and tall whose uniform bagged over his body. Now the fabric around his arm was in tatters.

Another man taller than him had pulled him to his feet. “Quit cryin’, Logan. Just let the tag thingy do what it do. It’s already fixed it, look.”

“But ain’t it supposed to feel better, Owen?!”

“That counts as cryin’…”

Ashton bit her lip. “Um, wait!” The two men looked at her as she jogged up to them. “Do you want me to look at it?”

The skinny man, Logan, looked to the other, then he yanked himself free. “Y-yeah. Did you see what happened? Them beetles just sprung out of the trees!”

Ashton took his arm in her hands. The wounds were already covered up with pink, healing skin, or it was rashes from the bites. Whatever swelling would have been counteracted by the magic. “Hmm, I think-”

A shadow loomed over her head. She jumped. The tall and intimidating Elgan watched her as she worked. She stopped and corrected herself. “Owen is right. It does look healed.”

“See?” Owen thwacked the other man on his back. “The Windor girl agrees.”

“But it’s not really. Even if it looks better, it doesn’t mean it’s healed. The magic closes the wounds, but it doesn’t fix it for good. You still must give it time to recover on its own. I wouldn’t use it for anything in the meantime.”

Logan blinked at her. “How’d you know any of that? I’ve never used this tag stuff in my life.”

“Me neither,” Ashton replied with a smile. “But my mom can heal like that, so I guess-” She stopped again, self-consciously picking her words. “I have a lot of experience with this.”

Elgan helped lift the skinny man back onto his feet. “Then you get back. Stay away from the front until you can feel that arm again. Then carry the goods.”

Logan gave a startled half salute. “Guess it’s good we got those Windors after all,” he muttered as he left. Owen followed, shaking his head. 

Ashton didn’t think Logan should do anything once it healed for real, but she bit her tongue. She tried to think of ways to excuse herself, but her mind blanked. Elgan didn’t follow the others like she hoped he would. He stood and watched them go, shaking his head and rubbing his arms.

“Looks like they respect you,” Ashton said nervously.

Elgan sighed. “They’re basically kids. They don’t know their ass from their gun. If we had any guns.”

_ How am I supposed to respond to that? _ Ashton thought. She nodded and pressed her lips together tightly, looking around as if any minute someone would summon her away.

“Where are you from?” Elgan mumbled, jutting his head at her.

Ashton was surprised. The question seemed innocent enough. “I’m from Lhant, in Windor.”

“Lhant…” Elgan seemed to look like he wanted to say something, but he just stared, his eyebrows scrunched together. Then he tilted his head to the side and pointed a large finger at her. “You related to some Barnes?”

“W-what?”

“Barnes. I thought that was the name. Ye said your Ma could heal? Never heard of anyone like that, except that name.”

“Well, my mom is Cheria Barnes.” Ashton stood, awkwardly holding her arms. “She used to travel with a relief group, helping towns recover from monster attacks. She still goes to help where she’s needed.”

Elgan nodded to himself. “And do you…?” he said, wiggling his fingers at Ashton.

Ashton blinked. “Do I…?” She wiggled hers too. Was he asking if she played piano?

“You know.” He grumbled, wiggling fingers more and letting them float into the air.

Ashton stared before her mind snapped to attention. “Oh! Do I know the spells? Uh, I’m afraid not.” She looked down to the floor, rubbing her head. “My mom, and my sister too, they have that ability. I just picked up a few things about taking care of injuries.”

Elgan nodded, looking out into the snow sunken trees. “I might have met her once. Your Ma. Or at least my Da did. He had to help with setting up those pipes running around underground. Some time while setting up, the hot water shot out,” He motioned an explosion of water. “Covered him. Stuck his clothes to his skin and burned everything else that wasn’t covered. She was there. I wasn’t, but Da won’t shut up about it.”

Breathtaken, Ashton clenched her fist. “Wow,” she said.

“She healed him right up, though his skin was still puckered. A scar down the side of his face.” Elgan splayed his fingers against his nose, smearing it across his cheek. “He calls it the kiss of an angel. Ma would smack him after he called it that.”

Ashton hid a laugh. Elgan wasn’t what she expected. “I’m glad my mom was able to help your Da like that.”

Elgan shrugged. “Would be better if you’d do it too. No weird lifesaving jewelry.”

“I doubt I could do  _ that  _ much,” she said and sighed. “Honestly, those eleth tags are the real miracle. How they work is a lot like my mom, I think.”

Elgan shrugged. He looked off into the distant snow “This world keeps getting odder. This country needs all the help it can get.”

Ashton smiled up at him, not afraid of meeting the big stranger’s eyes. “Thank you for telling me about your family. If my mom was here, she…” She shook her head. She didn’t know what her mom would do. “She’d want to help, I think. I know it can be embarrassing to accept help, so that’s why the others have been tense. Things may be different now, but we’re all too different to help each other when we need it.”

Elgan studied her, before giving a short nod. “Don’t let the others get to you, mind. Us in Fendel have a lot to deal with. My group will be more friendly once we’re back at base.” With that, he walked away, starting back to his men.

Ashton touched a hand to her chest, to the necklace she wore underneath.  _ If Mom, or Dad, or Sophie were here too… _

* * *

They trudged on in the snow, having walked for a whole day with only a few breaks in between. The longer they trekked, the less Ashton saw of Laurent. She was already cycled back to the front once her arms were the same consistency of her legs. She didn’t even try to talk to anyone for once. Small talk seemed too much to manage at this point.

Someone nudged her arm. She turned with a start. It was the first time Laurent found his way to her side. His face was pale and blistered by the cold, but his green eyes held their regal gleam. She turned back to face the cold. “Hey, Laurent.”

“I saw what you did earlier,” Laurent remarked casually. She kept walking and noticed Laurent falling into step with her. “I see you working your talent in making friends,” he chided.

“Not really,” she protested, looking away. “I just wanted to make sure that man was alright. Not many other Fendelians have given me the time of day, to be honest.”

Laurent nodded sympathetically. Then he pressed his fingers to his brow. “It’s better than what I’ve accomplished…”

Ashton bit her lip and shrugged. “That’s easy to fix. You just need to meet them where they are. Reach out first, y’know?”

“I have tried that, honestly, but they are intent on their pride as people of Fendel. They spurn or ignore me when I do. All we can do is continue to look out for each other from afar…”

“That’s still a good thing. Your magic has saved us several times over,” Ashton reassured him.

Laurent’s smile was piteous in its effort. “I do what I can… Though I’m certain it’s not appreciated. Situations like these have always plagued me. The others avoided me, so I’ve tried to do the same. It’s been a long silence, this trek.” The snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked. “What did Elgan say to you? He never speaks a word to me.”

“Oh, well, nothing big. After I helped that man, Elgan asked me who my mom was.” She relayed the story to him.

“Sounds like having you stow away with us is a credit,” Laurent remarked, “even more than I knew it would be.”

“But why? I can’t heal anyone. I’m just me…” Ashton slumped her shoulders. “If Mom were here-”

A hand landed on her shoulder. “If Lady Cheria  _ were _ here,” Laurent said, his face comically serious, “she would put a stop to this whole operation and send us back home without supper.”

Ashton clapped a gloved hand to her mouth, fighting a giggle. Having done his job, Laurent helped himself to a smile. Now she felt some of her annoyance with him melt away. She had missed their easy conversations. “Yeah, or a punishment she’s been saving for my brothers… But still, she could really do something. Or Dad, or Sophie, if they were here…”

“But they’re not. We are, as are the knights, and the rebels. Helpful as they would be, we can’t focus on who’s not here.”

Ashton bit her lip. “Maybe… After all we do have a member of the royal family here to help, right?”

Laurent looked at her crookedly. “Did you overhear something I didn’t? They think we patronize them, they’ve made it clear.”

“…Then they’re not paying enough attention.”

He put up a hand. “Thank you, Ashton, but I don’t need the encouragement. There was no welcome. It was begrudging if anything. I’m starting to believe if my dad actually came…”

Now Ashton pressed her hand on his shoulder. “In a way, he is. He wants to help Fendel too, and this is how he meant to do it.”

“And I mean to do well by it. I’m… aware of how I represent the crown. There’s no avoiding it. But after a certain point I don’t want to live by those expectations. I want to be known for myself above all…” He ventured a shy glance at Ashton. “Does that make any sense?”

“I think so…”

“But it’s more than just Fendel. I would never wish it, but should something terrible happen to my sister I would be looked to next. It’s daunting, yet the expectations are not clear. It’s an open-ended problem, and as I grow older, it grows trickier. But if I overextend my influence, then it becomes my crutch.”

The hill they climbed had a break in the horizon.

Laurent spoke with quiet finality. “I am worth far more than just the blood in my veins.”

Before them was a large stone set of buildings, with broken stone fences lining the sides. Outside looked empty, until Elgan called out and someone cast a flare that shot upwards and then fizzled into the snow. The building responded with a similar flare, this one green in color.

A tired but hearty whoop echoed from the group carrying the supplies. New speed at reaching their destination ushered them forward. Ashton was caught up in the excitement around her. Never had she been so excited to get to a large pile of stones, especially if it meant she would be able to escape from the bitter cold. Bellamy strutted ahead of them, and Laurent left Ashton to join her. She didn’t think much of it, instead thinking about the woman with long, curly black hair who greeted them there.

“Elgan! About time,” she said, her voice deep and raspy. “We’re almost about to start eating the rock in the walls here.”

Elgan cracked an actual smile, his teeth crooked. “Don’t start yet, Millie. We’ve brought the goods from Windor. Get the others to bring it in.”

Millie eyed the group warily. “They came through, huh? I didn’t think I’d see it.”

Laurent walked up to the woman and bowed. “We would never abandon a neighbor in need. I am Prince Laurent, and I’m glad to see your group has been safe here.”

Millie sniffed. She walked past Laurent, who was still recovering from his bow. “Safe ain’t part of it,” she said. “We had to send off a group to get some soldiers off us. But they came back with news. Not good news…” 

Laurent glared/stared for a moment at the woman, but the moment passed quickly. Bellamy stepped in front of her trek to Elgan. “What news? Does the army know where you are?”

“Who’s this?” Millie looked to Elgan, who held out his hand. _ A gesture to trust him, _ Ashton thought. The woman shrugged. “The army is too busy chasing the ghost of us. But what we learned is something that might make them stay.

“That idiot Moroz,” groaned Millie. “He’s in hiding with Caesar. And we know where they is.”


End file.
